This is my daughter about eight years ago on a windy day at the beach. Today was such a day, but much worse. Today when you looked out across the sand you could see a thin mist. Today the lifeguards had long pants and long sleeves. Today the sand stung.
The minute I walked on the beach I remembered the time I was with my parents during a "sand storm", I was five and that's what I referred to it as my whole life. My Dad had several Restaurateur's in his family and one owned a place in Atlantic City, NJ, another owned a juice joint on the Boardwalk. The restaurant was a nice piece of real estate on a corner lot and had lodgings on the floors above, which is where we stayed most summers.
I don't remember much of the day just that my mom kept me wrapped in a towel. What I remember most are the stories I had to listen to about my reaction to the windy day at the beach.. How I whined, cried, was generally miserable and ruined everyone's fun.
Well, today I was not about to ruin anyone's fun!
I hung in there, my daughter and I walked up and down the beach, she played, I sat all the while with the sand pounding, getting into my eyes, my hair, and everything in the beach bag was covered with sand. My towel could have filled a child's bucket. But I waited until she said "Okay, we can go." I asked if she was sure and we walked back to our bungalow.
I think I can stop feeling guilty now.
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