I am a huge fan of natural, God created, bodies of water. I am not a fan of those encased in plaster or cement. Now you know.
I had the opportunity to join my son for a swim in the Pacific Ocean the other day. The thing about the ocean in Southern California is that at the onset of the salty water making contact with your thighs, belly and neck you can either feel refreshed by the cool waters, or numb enough from the chill to have surgery administered to your limbs without the use of anesthesia. Thankfully this swim was of the refreshing variety.
After a few dips and dives my body began to get used to the temperature to the point where it was addictive. The water was so refreshing that I was completely relaxed, laughing as my son and I frolicked in the waves and bobbed in the water with only our heads peaking up from the ocean’s surface. I could have stayed right there, in that moment, for hours.
I glanced back at the shore and noticed that my friend, Sarah, was packing up the chairs and umbrella, and making neat piles of towels. Evidently the two 8 year olds and 3 year old were useless as they stood under the outdoor shower rinsing off layers of sand that had stuck to the thick coating of sunscreen.
Over come with guilt, yet reluctant to exit the water, I told my son that we should get out and help Sarah since she was working solo. Without a hitch he informed me that the perfect time to swim is when others are packing up the beach gear. He continued with the notion that it is then, that you inform those who are intent on leaving, that you must rinse off your sandy body by jumping into the water, and then proceed to stay in the water until all things on the shoreline are packed.
That kid is smart.
I exited the water and my son continued to swim. Guilt got the best of me, and, my need to please others.