…Something beautiful…. You know I love you so….

The most perfect, almost moody skies, a melancholy hint rolling in with the waves. The insistence of the breeze. The silent yet deafening reminder that joy is in the ride even when the sun hides.

Sitting here watching Jacob’s childhood happen in real time is beautiful, specifically because it is fleeting, imperfect, and deeply felt everyday. I’m consciously choosing to keep seeing the beauty in all of it while simultaneously carrying grief, hope, memories, and love.

The grief of my parents being gone, the anticipatory grief of knowing how soon Jacob will become too grown up for spontaneous beach days. The grief of my own failures and aging.

The love I have for my family, my friends, my life.

The memories of my life lived thus far.

Reminding myself every day to soak in the ordinary joy, the ordinary miracles. Stand in the waves, eat the fries, exist freely in the moment. Take up space.

The only way to get through any of this is with quiet resilience,
nostalgia, maternal love,
and knowing in my heart that healing doesn’t always look happy…sometimes it just looks like showing up for a beautiful afternoon even if the wind blows or the sky is a little moody.