Beach Walk

I have walked this road to the water a dozen times, but every time, something new stands out. Like this morning, I notice an old blue home with flags hung on the porch, sun bleached with time. Jack has woken early, the rest of the home still slumbering. We take our walk hand in hand, he holds his other hand up in the air, careful not to let the oversized sweatshirt sleeve cover his free hand.
We play "I Spy" as we examine the colors & the range of flowers that thrive in this climate. We walk along the sidewalk that parallels the docks. Jack is enamored with all the boats. We watch the pelicans dive into the water, gathering breakfast. He picks sage flowers and is eager to share this moment with Sissy. His Dad joins us & Jack is peaceful.
On the way back to the beach house, he clings to my neck, tired from his morning walk.
I am taken back again and again by the love I have for each of my blessings. It consumes me, surprises me...
We collect Emma- the two pirates share a carriage ride in a wagon pulled by their mighty Dad. Everything they come across, every flower, every bird, every boat, they breathe in. They pick flowers together, each helping & encouraging the other.
How can I commit to memory the smell of the fresh cold air? The sound of the morning birds? The way Jack's nose crinkles as he smells the different bouquets of flowers? The morning is priceless...