a day at the beach

i love the ocean. in my late teen years and early 20's, i'd hop in the car and head to marina del rey if i had something upsetting me or needed to think something thru. morning, afternoon, late at night. if i needed clarity, that's where i would go. there is something magical, powerful and inspirational about the ocean. it's power can also be frightening.

living in the northwest, going to the coast isn't as quick of a trip as it was back home. i've lived here six years and i've been to seaside once without visiting the actual beach, cannon beach once and then today we went to seal rock in newport. it was very accessible via a not too long path. there was a small tide pool area where we were set up, but we didn't see anything interesting in there.

the waves were crashing hard against the rocks that were farther out. my children were so happy, it wasn't crowded so i could even let my 1 1/2 year old run back and forth to me in the sand. all the kids played in the water despite how absolutely freezing it was. i buried my oldest and his friend, dug for sand crabs, built sand castles, played in the waves, explored.

it felt like it was the first time that i exhaled and actually meant it. i really let alot go with that first big breath. my shoulders fell. it was peaceful. i felt good. nowadays, as soon as i enjoy a moment of peace or bliss, i snap back to sadness about my mom. i wish she were here enjoying this with us. the waves hitting the rocks became scary and i imagined that something similar is happening inside of her body.

there are few people on the beach and none of them are within ear shot. my baby is digging in the sand with daddy. my son and his friend are playing in the waves. just sanji and i stand shin deep in the ocean, waiting for the waves to come and i just start talking to God, to the universe, to Ganesh - remover of obstacles, to any manifestation of The One.

I speak, not articulately but just desperately, "please don't take my mom, let her live, take her cancer away. let her have a miracle. please, please, heal her. let her see her apos finish high school, start families. let her live long and be happy and strong." just as desperately, i add "if you need her sooner, at least let her live without pain, don't let her suffer. let her be happy and strong. just please, i know you can do that."

i felt pathetic because these are the words of countless daughters, praying for their mothers for any number of reasons. why should my prayer be answered? there is nothing special about me. but there is everything special about my mom. i believe she can have a miracle and i will never stop asking for one.