Graham grew up by the water, and spent pretty much every summer day of his entire childhood on the sand. He’s the first person I’ve ever met who actually lived at the beach.
Before we got together, I think I’d visited the beach, like, five times, maybe?
All of that to say, the beach was never a huge part of my life, and it’s taken some getting used to.
It’s silly, I know, to say something like that. Lots of people love the beach – they visit every year, they make plans to retire there, they dream of owning a house and staying in it as often as they can. And I totally get it! It’s just never been my thing.
But y’all, sometimes, you gotta get over yourself.
And in this case, you is me. I am you. Because, as it turns out, Lucy loves the beach.
She’s a little intimidated by the all that sand and water, sure, but she’s a fan. Graham is elated. 😊 And me?
Well, I guess I’m finally, slowly, and for the best reason ever, becoming a beach person.
It’s different here, this season’s change – the slant of the light and the smell in the air – brighter, milder, wilder, like something ancient, fierce and dangerous but constant and controlled. I’ve always said nature is a woman.
A 3:00 a.m. thought. But also a post I’ve been meaning to write.
It’s hard to believe that this time last year, Lucy was not even in the plan. Now she’s here, and she’s my whole life.
This time last year, we’d just gotten Merlin. Now he rules the house. Don’t tell Annie.
This time last year, we were in the middle of renovating and updating and the sounds of construction were the constant soundtrack of our days. It’s quiet around here now, except when Lucy cries, which is not often.
This time last year, I don’t think I could have imagined what things would look like today. How tiring and wonderful and short the days would be, and how much love my heart could hold, and just how happy we could be in our cozy little farmhouse, the three of us and our crazy pets.
I wonder what things will look like this time next year. I’m excited for all the joys and memories to come.
I hardly ever find myself wishing that I could stop time. I generally like thinking of the future. I find it exciting, all those possibilities and knowing that if I’m going through a rough patch, it’s only for right now. And that applies to good times, too. Everything is only a moment, and while sometimes that’s hard, I generally view it as a net positive. Being stuck, even in a happy time, would just be boring.
And then, I look at this little kitten that just won’t stop growing and I can’t help but think, “Slow down!”
I don’t have children, so this is as close as I get, I think, to what parents feel watching their little ones change every day. Merlin is a new cat almost every hour. He finds new places to explore and to nap, he likes something and then he doesn’t, he wants all the attention and then to be all by himself. The only constant so far is that he desperately wants to be Annie’s friend. She’s not interested. He’s not giving up.
He’s almost six months old, and I wonder what he’ll look like, what he’ll be like, in another six months. And then in the year after that, and after that. It’s exciting, as it always is for me, to think of the future. But it’s also a little sad, because he won’t be this new baby forever. He’ll grow and change and he won’t be the same. And eventually, hopefully a long, long time from now, and just like Gatsby, who is still so very loved, he’ll die. But he’ll always be Merlin.
(Feel free to laugh as I talk about my pet like a human. I’ve long ago accepted my impending future as a crazy cat lady.)
And then I remember that that’s true for me, too. And for Graham. And for all of us. It’s easy to get caught up, even knowing that everything is really, truly, temporary, in hard times and unhappy feelings, in being down on yourself or feeling stuck in a rut. For many of us, I think the world we live in tends to demand that we occupy a certain spot, like that’s where we’re most useful. But we’re all new, every day. The greatest thing about being human is that we are free to change and to grow as much as we want to, for all the days that we’re alive. And we’ll still be us, even as we learn lessons and try new things and make mistakes.
It’s wonderful, isn’t it?
But it’s also stressful and scary. And absolutely unavoidable. Life happens.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 