The Swirl of Marbled Sand

Gray and foggy. A steady soft summer’s rain fell early one morning. Hills and mountains surround my little house on the hill. A dramatically different landscape from a week or so ago.

Word puzzles done. The required three. Wordle, Connections and Strands. I sipped coffee while I scrolled through photos on my phone. Images that have now become sweet memories. A week recently spent on Cape Cod with my family. Brewster, MA.

The sounds of a family filled our beach rental. The original four and our cherished new additions. A son-in-law, daughter-in-law and two grands. The house was busy. Children and animated voices. Quick conversations with much to do.

I sat and drew with my eldest granddaughter at a long kitchen table covered in a blue and white checkered vinyl cloth. We chatted and snacked while we discussed our masterpieces. Our drawings hung on the refrigerator nearly immediately. Polly Pocket’s dotted the length of the table. The Unicorn Castle held prime real estate. Beach towels folded and placed at the far end ready to be employed.

Chunky children’s books. Balls and blocks. Small items everywhere. Bathing suits and protective sunhats. A bubblegum pink long handled shovel leaned against the garage ready for moat making.

The beach just a number of feet away. A spirited walk as we anticipated the day. Rock seawalls both to our left and right. Seagulls squawked. Cape Cod air. The vast expanse of ocean before me, humbling.

We settled into our spot. Blankets, tent and coolers. We organized with an eagerness. My daughter had thoughtfully prepared all things leaving us only to the business of the day. Fun in the sun.

I noticed a young family of four as they walked up the beach sporting matching bathing suits. A pale-yellow pattern seemed to signify belonging. The many tents and cabanas offered some relief from the unrelenting July sun. Midsummer heat and humidity. Scorching temperatures.

The ocean, and particularly the Brewster Flats. Large puddles of saltwater housed small creatures as the tide slid away. Endless walking and beach combing for my granddaughter and I. Soft smooth sand suitable for tender young peds and aging feet alike. We strode next to one another with her small hand in mine.  Dark swirls of sand flowed through the grains. Marbled and abstract.

Sturdy weathered cedar fencing rambled along the base of the dunes. I sat for a moment in between sandcastle making, tag and walking to the ocean’s edge. I glimpsed at the tip of the dune grasses as they sparkled and danced under a cobalt blue sky. The sound of my nearby adult children talking and laughing with one another washed over me. They spoke the language of siblings.

                           “Siblings are the link to our past and the bridge to our future.” –Jane Mersky Leder