Sometimes she naps quite late and I wonder if we will manage to squeeze in an afternoon walk. Today she woke as the sun dipped low in the sky. I scooped her relaxed warm body into my arms, secured her to my body and hurried out the door as the insects began to trill. By the time we reached our secret beach, the sun had slipped below the tree line and a hazy glow lingered briefly, like the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon apple pie.
We played on the sand for a short time before the trunk of a large old uprooted tree caught her eye. The driftwood was smooth and pale grey, bleached almost white by the sun and salty sea. On one side, sooty black scars could be seen, a sure sign that someone had tried to burn it, possibly as a campfire. I was relieved it didn't burn, I have a special bond with this tree, having visited it many times during the days when we were trying to conceive a baby. It provided silent company, somewhere I could sit and think about all the things in my life that came and went with wavering levels of importance.
Now my daughter was drawn to it for her own reasons. The thought of this long lifeless tree touching my sweet girl brings me joy.
I love this beach, this tree, this time of year and this life. All are impermanent but mean the world to me.
Tomorrow will bring the first day of summer.