At the water’s edge
Today we crossed the sound in the Baltic Sea between Denmark and Sweden. It was quick and efficient, in the way you might assume a Scandinavian water crossing would be. The water was the same emerald green and blue as our beaches at home. So incredibly beautiful.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to travel; to explore and learn and experience the whole of the world. And when I had children, I dreamt even more about discovering new places with them. We’ve both prioritized and been fortunate enough to travel with them a good bit. It is one of my most favorite things. We’re not fancy travelers and we typically seek out the roads less traveled. This means that our journeys are always adventurous. There are awkward moments, uncomfortable moments, hysterical moments and moments of pure gold. Today held them all.
But the one thing I’m painfully aware of, that I haven’t experienced before, is realizing in a very real way that we’re at the water’s edge. This is likely our last great and grand adventure before our son heads to college next year. Our last BIG family trip with “the kids”. They’ll always be our children, but the tides are changing.
And it’s how it should be.
Even if my eyes tear up and a lump enters my throat when I think about it too much.
One of my great hopes of traveling with my kids is that they would develop a sense within themselves that they are capable of belonging anywhere. That they would have the courage to experience new things and seek authentic understanding. That in a real way, they would develop wings that allow them to soar.
As my son stood on the rocky shore of a sea we’d never before seen, he turned to me and said, “mom, it looks like home!”.
A smile beamed across his face. His sister caught up to his side. My heart skipped a beat.
Before him stands an ocean of opportunity. A lifetime of new experiences and new loves. A story yet untold.
He stands at the water’s edge.
And we stand there with him.
It is stunningly beautiful, so perfectly right. Yet the water breaks violently against the rocks of the shoreline separating land from sea. A reminder of the power of the tides and the pain they can inflict - and that part of it all is letting go.
