A Beach Day

This afternoon, weather permitting, it will be family afternoon at the beach.

I know my kids will absolutely love it.  They've always loved it.

Me.  Not so much.

If I had a nickle for every time I told someone I was from near Corpus Christi and then heard, "I bet you love the beach," I'd be a rich man.  For some reason people assume because you grew up near the beach that you actually like it.  (Personally, I believe the comment says more about the person's love of the beach.)

They tend to get shocked when I reply, "No."

"Why?" Usually comes next.

I go into my laundry list:

The sand gets everywhere.
The beaches in Texas aren't all that great.
The water is murky.
Mosquitoes make their presence known in abundance.
The salt air corrodes your vehicles and makes things deteriorate more quickly than normal.

Most folks don't get it.  I understand there are many, many people who see the beach as magical.  The roaring of the surf provides soothing background music.  Pelicans flying in formation produce "aw's".  Wading in the water makes a person calm.  Watching the sun rise or sun set over the water is a spiritual experience.  I get it.  I really do.  It just doesn't quite do that for me.  Not in and of itself.

Is there beauty?  Sure.
Is there calm?  Sure.
Can people experience something greater than themselves there?  Absolutely.
I guess when you grow up with such a thing right in your backyard, you don't quite see it that way.

What I will take great joy in, however, is my children's joy.  That's something to treasure.

I'll laugh and grin as they laugh and grin while jumping waves.

I'll sit back and take pride as they build their sandcastle, and I'll gladly jump in and help when they ask me to.

I'll smile within as they look for sea shells and chase crabs and perhaps a sea gull.

Just because the beach isn't magical for me, doesn't mean I can't enjoy that it is for my kids.

Kind of reminds me of a scene from a move I watched recently on Netflix: The Immortals.

Theseus' mother is murdered, and an oracle tells Theseus he must bury his mother according to the custom of her belief.  Theseus replies, "I do not believe in her gods."

The oracle replies, "It doesn't matter what you believe.  What matters is that she did."

And so, we will pack up my GMC Yukon.  We'll slather down the kids with sunscreen.  We'll make the hour and a half drive down to the national sea shore, and we'll go to the beach.  Not necessarily because I love it, but because my kids do.