Early this morning the kids and I headed to the beach. It was cloudy, threatening rain, but we had a date wwith friends and we were determined.
The skies cleared after we settled on the beach. There wasn't anyone else there. Just us and the gentle waves that rolled along for what seemed like miles of a low tide.
These mornings are numbered. They'll happen through the fall and winter, but not as frequently. Fynn starts preschool in about two weeks.
My heart aches with that last statement.
While we're preparing for a sendoff, I'm starting to feel homesick. Not for a specific place, somewhat for people, but mostly for a simplicity of life. Maybe the one I grew up with. I'm trying to descern the longing for days spent learning at home from the longing for my parents. I'm trying to decide if I feel the homeschooling tug for the right reasons.
He will go to preschool this year, and Paige next, and from there wwe're keeping options open. But that tug...
I'm ready for the end of summer. If I could spend the entire summer at the beach I wouldn't want it to end. But my car holds enough sand to create a beach itself... when we have our own beach house it'll be different. Someday.
There's this vision that keeps popping up in my head: a white four season porch, with posters of different shells, or maybe dolphins, with diagrams and charts... kids studying in big comfy chairs... listening to the waves. Bouncing spelling words around while I knit. Running down to the ocean to refocus. Grabbing a new bowl of seashells for the kitchen table every week.
Someday.
For now I'll take the early morning beach trips as they come, and praise my firstborn as he starts his academic journey, and reliash in the quiet moments with my second...
