The ocean breathes in waves.
Expanding swells, like lungs,
That fill
and heave
and rise
Until
they break and burst and blow in spray, in spume, in suds…
Subsiding…
Sucking at the sand.
Inhaling grit and shore and shell
With a hungry hiss.
From a wind blown dune top I watch
And learn to breathe again with every wave.
Inspiration with inhalation;
Respiration with release.
The ocean breathes in waves
And never holds its breath.
My beautiful boy
So you’re turning 15. Just writing that makes me get all tearful – silly right? but it’s true.
But you know the good part of that is, I’m not tearful because I miss the tiny baby lying next to me in bed before you were old enough to even smile, just looking at me with those blue eyes… or the laughing toddler pushing the yellow truck along the beach… or the kid pouring over books about aeroplanes or dinosaurs… I loved each version of you that I’ve known so far; but I love who you are right now most of all because you’re becoming your own man, and someone worth knowing, someone easy to love, someone with deep feelings and emotions, with empathy, with dignity, and with a kick ass sense of humour that cracks me up.
So here’s why I’m a bit tearful…I know it’s a real parent thing to say but I am so. proud. of you. Honestly, genuinely proud of you. I believe that you’ll make good choices, that you’re capable of great love, that you’ll change the world in some way, just by being the incredible human being you are.
Keep growing, keep learning, keep asking questions, keep loving with all your heart, keep standing up for people who can’t stand up for themselves, keep sharing your gifts with the world.
Don’t let the hard times and the mean spirited people get you down.
You’re amazing. You’re loved.
Now go be 15 and make it your best year yet.
I love you always and forever.
Mom
I have 3 days weekends (yeah, you can hate me, I’m down with that)
So when I say ‘This weekend I’m going to…’ I include Fridays…
*By swum I mean run in and run out of the ocean – none of this freestyle / backstroke nonsense. It’s all about feeling alive. I get my exercise before hand.
In closing… my new favourite song (well I only heard it an hour ago but I love it already. Having a 15 year old (tomorrow) son = a great source of new music discovery. Luckily we share awesome taste in music.
“Life is not measure by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” – Anon
I was momentarily breathless this morning when I plunged into 11 degree C waves at the beach shortly after sunrise.
It’s early spring in Cape Town and even though sunshine was sparkling out of a clear blue sky, the choppy white waves were being whipped up by a very fresh south easter and my arms and legs prickled with goosebumps as I ran across the wide beach to get to the water’s edge.
Stepping into the lacy foam my toes and feet felt the shock of the cold water but I kept moving, both resisting yet relishing the icy burn in my legs and the jolt at my belly as I met the waves deeper out.
(Image via Pinterest – no credit available)
At last I surrendered to the moment and turned my back on the next wave allowing it to slap me across the back then ducking my head right under and letting the current sweep my legs out from under me, carrying me light as a leaf, limbs flailing, and depositing me back in the shallows, closer to shore.
Staggering to my feet I regained my balance, breathless but laughing, and plunged back to meet the ever rolling waves again.
In my experience, there is no better way to feel completely alive, and 100% in the moment, than swimming in the ocean. I use the term swimming rather loosely as I tend to play, cavort and splash about, diving under waves, leaping high with unbroken swells, ducking under massive breakers and allowing the water to have its way with me, no matter how silly I may look.
You simply cannot be depressed, sad or anxious in those minutes spent playing in the sea.
And while summer with its warm, generous frothy waves is wonderful, these bracing early swims just past winter, when the air hasn’t yet completely forgotten to leave its sting behind and seasonal swimmers like me emerge from the cocoon of winter mornings under the covers – these are the ones that make me feel alive again, awake after a long hibernation.
R gave me a handmade card with the following message inside. Of course it made me cry 🙂 Had to share it.
“I can’t begin to tell you how much I love and appreciate you. You’ve always been there for me and I have so many memories of you.
I remember reading stories in the morning. I remember driving to the beach just you and me and me, running screaming into the water; driving from Simons Town all the way to Red Hill. Me being stupid and you laughing hysterically. Making the Cave project out of fridge boxes in Grade 2.
I hve so many things to be grateful for. Making me tea, breakfast and school lunch for me. I love lying and talking with you in the mornings and evenings.
I love almost everything about you. Your (real) smile. your infectuous laugh, the way you can talk about something serious and then change it into something completely funny.
Over the thirteen years I’ve been with you I’ve grown to love you more than you will ever imagine.
I hope God blesses you in this 40th year of your life.
I love you more than the moon and the stars and the wide, wide world.
You’ve made my life the way it is.
Raphael.
(the moon, stars and world bit is something we’ve said to each other most nights since he was a toddler).
How blessed am I?
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