MYRTLE BEACH, SC
They come in rhythm, the waves.
We call the easy ones “rollies” as my Mom called them with me and her dad with her. The bigger ones we eye with concern, deciding if they will require a lift from me or if she can negotiate them herself.
She has recently learned to hold her breath under water, a great advantage for this game, yet a cunning one as it can lead to overconfidence.
We roll with the waves. As each one rises, she teaches me something of her growing ability to navigate the world.
I learn my job: to be present to her, to the oncoming waves, and to the moment; to lend a little courage, to praise a wave well ridden, to hold and lift when necessary.
Yes, lovely heartwarming and ongoing this dialogic in motion/emotion/progression and I am there. Here there then now future past the rhythm of lives lived. Mom