Tuesday, September 4, 2018

NY missive no 157 - Rockaway Beach

The boys crash their arms and bodies into the breaking waves at Rockaway Beach. It's a grey, windy day so the beach is almost empty other than us. They keep getting bowled over and getting up again, ecstatic to be challenging the sea like it's some wild monster. I'm there, a bit fearful of their fearlessness, watching closely, wanting to be just challenging the waves too, and wondering at the strength of the sea, the fragility of this coastline, the fragility of their lives.


A voice comes down the stairs, "Mama, can I go to bed now?" and the words are perfectly formed, and I wonder at the fact that just some time ago he knew nothing of words, only noises.