Somewhere Between the Surf and the Shore

He stood looking out over the ocean.  His face was weathered, giving away his advanced age.  He watched from the shore.  His eye caught mine a few times and I noticed a hint of a smile.  He appeared to be in thought and I sensed a longing.  Perhaps it was a longing for times gone by or a longing to be young and agile and run headlong into the waves.  Perhaps it was a wish to be carefree and uninhibited.  I imagined it was a wish to be in the water dancing with the waves. He watched over the water for several minutes, often shading his eyes from the sun, and then shuffled away slowly along the beach. His head bobbed low with each step.

She waited patiently in the water until a wave approached and then she dove in with abandon and swam with it, letting it carry her into shore.  Once on shore she jumped up, youth on her side, and ran back toward the next wave.  Once or twice she nearly took me out at the knees.  Her father, watching from a distance, called her in and cautioned her to be more aware of the people around her.  She entered the water again but was quickly swept in by the catch and release game with the waves and very nearly knocked me over once again.  It made me laugh and her father seemed relieved by my reaction.  Storm clouds began to build but she did not want to leave the water and pretended not to hear her father calling, reluctant to stop her play.

I was in the middle.  I was coaxed by my husband to leave the shore and had entered the water.  I stood chest deep enjoying the waves hitting me and getting some splash in my face now and then.  I was swept off my feet once by a large wave and giggled.  I was not locked on the shore reminiscing or wishing.  I was not jumping with abandon into the surf.  I was somewhere between.

Those moments on a beach in Florida are a perfect metaphor for my life these days.  Though I want to jump in headlong into new adventures I'm held back.  I am bogged down by things like age and fear and fear of age.  I set limits for myself.  I'm no longer young but I'm not old and that comes with a desire to be responsible and a hesitancy toward change.  But, I will venture in slowly.  I'm not glued to the shore thinking about what has been and what might have been.

I hope I always venture into the water.  I've never been one to jump into anything with abandon.  But, I do get in and I do begin to enjoy the experience.  I hope I'm never afraid of what people might think when they see an old woman dancing in the surf.  I hope I never stand on the shore with a look of longing.  I hope I can stay somewhere between.