TIME TO GO HOME...ALMOST

From 3/8/10 to 3/13/10

"Hush! Hush! Hush!",
The ocean advises endlessly as it caresses the beach beneath my balcony. I gaze over the railing's edge at the terra-cotta colored tiles surrounding an empty swimming pool. It is nearly six-o'clock p.m. and everyone inside of our condominium is occupied in one way or another.

Eileen doodles on her Sudoku puzzle as she, Scott and Shannon are mezmerized by some sort documentary about the lives (and death) of sperm whales. Kari fiidgets with the computer; she's been concerned with the possibility of a substantial grant which may or may not be forthcoming to the sustainable living community that she calls "home" out west. On the other hand, I enjoy the simple act of watching them. Who knows when we will ever have another chance to be all in the same place at the same time again?

Flash forward:
Eileen is in bed, nursing a wretched cough that she somehow managed to contract during this festive and fun filled week with the kids. We have just returned back to the condo from dropping Scott and Shannon off at the Pensacola airport, forty miles away. Kari went back to Oregon the day before. Somehow, the simply overwhelming urge to visit Krispy Kreme Donuts got the best of me on the way home and my sugar buzz advized me to go "blogging" instead of curling up in bed again. We left for the airport at 3:45 a.m.

There are many things this father and husband will long remember about being on this beautiful beach:

Death match Scrabble games between Scott, Shannon, Eileen and Kari while Dad provided background music on his trusty Taylor guitar to his surprisingly appreciative audience.

A couple of late-night jam sessions and having the opportunity to sing harmony with Scott, Shannon and Eileen. Kari played guitar while I did my best on mandolin as we warbled our way through tunes like "Country Roads" and "The Port Of New Amsterdam" by David Bowie. My children have increased their father's musical vocabulary exponentially.

Jogging down the beach barefoot with my daughter on her last day here and somehow miraculously finding (finally), a "cat's-eye" seashell; delicately brownish-green and slightly broken, it was still a thing of beauty. Above all, Kari is absolutely, incredibly talented and amazingly gifted as a hoop artist. Seeing her perform on the beach in late afternoon one day took our breath away.

Watching the look of contentment on the faces of Scotty and Shannon via text-photos as they sat on the beach front sipping cold beers, enjoying the sun and soaking up every single minute of a well deserved respite from the drudgery of working back in good old Michigan. You are two of the most kind-hearted and thoughtful "kids" a dad and mom could hope for. Pretty talented jugglers too!

Best memory for last: Without a doubt, strolling down the sand and holding hands with my wife of almost forty years. Her hair has picked up some lovely streaky-blonde highlites and I still feel like a young buck most days as we splash our ankles through the surf and I skim pieces of broken sand dollars across the ocean's surface trying to impress her.

The sugar buzz is wearing off and it has been over an hour since this very slow typist began writing. The wind is blowing hard from the west, sending five-foot swells rolling towards our condo and I know Eileen will probably awaken again sometime soon. Hopefully, if her cough is better we'll have another chance to slip off our sandals, feel the powdery white sand between our toes and reflect back on what a nice month it has been, especially when the "kids" were here.