“I think in the heart of every human being there burns an ember of hope that warmly entices us to believe everything will eventually come together into one perfect day, and that potentially the hours in this day will stretch on indefinitely.” R.E. Goodrich
I don’t believe in perfect. I think perfect is something that only exists in heaven, fairy tales, and dreams … but I do believe in exceptionally, delightfully, spectacular days – where sunshine and sea salt exist in harmony with freckled noses and sandy smiles. Today was an extraordinary, not-so-ordinary day.
We decided to christen our new southern life with a trip to the beach. For two hours and fifty minutes on the way, we took turns proposing songs for our, “To the Beach” playlist. If the rating wasn’t an average of 9 for each of us, it didn’t make the cut. We got iced coffees and frappuccino’s, ate snacks and skipped lunch. The kids boarded with daddy, while I taught them the trick to avoid being smashed by a wave. My daughter and I took turns dancing with our shadows. My husband and son played frisbee in the waves, miraculously finding it on the beach regardless of the number of times they “lost” it to a swell. We got pizza on the way home and ate it in the car as our son slept, and our daughter played D.J. (She never sleeps.)
In the spirit of honesty, there were salt-in-our-eye moments, waves that made us tumble, back-seat bickers, front-seat bickers, sand-sand everywhere, beachy knots in beachy hair, and hustling home for our school-night shuffle.
But for a series of breezes, and burn-your-feet sand moments … today was a delicious taste of “almost” perfect.