Pink Crocs and Flops…

A narrow path to the beach winds through the overgrown scrubby brush. We left our sandals off to the side just about halfway in. My daughter’s flipflop sandals and her daughter’s bubblegum pink Crocs rested next to each other. The luxury and delight of sand between our toes carried us the remainder of the way…

Our tranquil Cape Cod beach offered all things naturally New England coastline.  Seawalls constructed of large boulders. Slippery yet begging to be climbed. A bounty of unidentifiable broken seashells that provided a cautionary surface. Flawless green sea glass special enough to be collected in my granddaughter’s hard plastic yellow sand pail. A potpourri of stones smooth and granular. Numerous devil’s purses. Driftwood rested on parchment-colored sand. Golden ocean waters filled with swirls of seaweed finding opportunity to wrap around even the tiniest of limbs…

We located our section of nirvana with only a family or two in either direction. Chairs set-up, a blanket strategically placed under the shade of an umbrella. A cooler filled with drinks and snacks. Whatever we missed or needed was only feet away at our summer rental. We were ready. We sat and basked in the late summer beauty of Brewster, MA. The Brewster Flats are the largest “flats” in North America encompassing roughly 12,000 acres and extending nearly 10 miles along the coastline from Brewster to North Eastham. I believe we walked every square inch over these past two weeks…

Sit we did but brief it was as my nearly two-year-old beautiful granddaughter Belle was soon in motion.  To the water she went. Fearless and certain. An adult or two was always in shadow of our adventurous girl. I reflected on how once walking on the beach tended to have a certain easy adult rhythm.  A quickness of gate yet meditatively relaxed.  A toddler’s pace however is filled with a fine blend of walking, running, and exploring, …

With Belle’s small hand in mine, we walked along and studied the Jackson Pollack labyrinth of snail trails. Observing the frantic world of hermit crabs. Looking only as we felt it best to let them simply be…

A small plane flew over head with a large banner streaming behind it.  Interested by the aerial advertisement we paused on a Naples yellow sandbar for the experience. I envied her delight over something I may have just as easily ignored. The inspiration of her young spirit filled me too…

We had endless opportunities to splash and paddle in the tidal puddles as we made our way to the distant ocean’s edge. The coast of Provincetown in view under cobalt blue skies. Minnows dashed and scattered as our feet entered the shallow tidal pools. We glimpsed young striped bass and blues energetically swimming. Seagulls squawking nearby. A gull methodically worked to crack open a mussel shell against the many rocks…

We took advantage of low tide and journeyed out 1.4 miles from the shore. Belle’s petite yet strong legs complained not. We hunted for the perfect white clam shell. Crossed a wide tidal pool with Spider Crabs marching in random uniformity. We hopped and danced as they seemed to be moving in numbers far greater than us. The very large crabs and their “Jurassic Parkishness” had us fascinated yet skittish. Belle was equally curious but from a higher vantage point and in the safety of her mom’s loving strong arms…We continued to our furthest destination just steps away from the Atlantic Ocean and all its inhabitants. The underwater world has always been an awe-inspiring mystery to me. Standing for a moment before we sojourned back, I let the extraordinary beauty that surrounded us wash over me. The walk back felt quicker as we chatted animatedly about our beach adventure…

Tired yet renewed we made our way off the beach and up the path. Waning sunblock, beach hair, new tan lines and sandy feet represented a perfect day. I once again breathed in the delicious ocean air as I spotted my granddaughter’s bright pink Crocs and my daughter’s flip flops waiting to be employed. My heart remembered when my daughter’s feet would have just as easily slipped into those precious little shoes…

“Always remember, you are braver than you believe, stronger than you think, and loved more than you know.” –  A. A. Milne