It was the holiday weekend, the traffic lines to get over the bridge, the sing-song chorus of "are we there yet", the Honda Civic jammed full of everything we could think of and then a few things more.
A few hours later we pitched our wee tent, threw in the backpacks, and dashed over the dunes to see this.
My boy. That chilly Atlantic Ocean. They skip and dance together like old friends. And the girl, discovering the shore grain by grain. The infinite possibilities of the ever shifting sand keeping her endlessly mesmerized.
Each foamy wave that teased her feet brought a squeal of delight. Each shell had to be thoroughly examined, scanning its every bump into her consciousness. And small beach critters running for their lives as her King Kong grip reached out to greet them.
No plastic beach toys. No bags full of novels and shovels. Just a quilt and a camera and each other and the joy of watching the littles get completely lost in this scene. Then back over the dunes, a meal, a rinse, and readying for sleep.
Our cozy tent holds the whole world. My two babies and my love.
And we hear the waves crashing beyond the dunes, and the birds busy with their debates, and we hear the hoofbeats.
Evidence leading right to our tent door. I felt the nose press against the red nylon while we nursed. I felt the hoofs thunder past on the hot sand. A neighing phantom.
I woke before the rest, bladder leading me into the dunes. So this is that thing they call sunrise. How cool and welcoming before a scorching day. No human sounds. Just the dewy beads like jewels lining my path.
Finally that afternoon we spy them. First far off, playing and sparring and galloping in the breeze. I use my telephoto, sure that this is as close as we'll get to these wild island beauties.
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"That's the one," he whispers. "She came back to see me." He is still. Stiller than I think is possible for a 6-year old boy. She ambles up. Then another. And another. "They trust me," he breathes. Closer, closer they come. His smile was a mile wide.
And the afternoon brought another wonder. She napped. A baby napping may not seem like such a big deal, but this is Super Power Nap Baby who normally only naps for 15 minutes at a time. She slept and slept and slept and slept. I kept checking her breathing. I read a book. An entire book. I stretched. I listened to my own music on the iPod. She would occasioanlly toss or roll her sweaty little head leaving wet spots on the sleeping bag. But she slept and slept. Dreaming of ponies and sunshine.
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