Cape Cod National Seashore
On the ocean.
Sometimes, when I am trying to get the baby to sleep, I will play him “The Psychologically Ultimate Seashore.” I thought about this last weekend when we were on the Cape and we took him to the ocean for the first time. Did it seem familiar, I wondered, as we watched the waves roll in.
I told O. that this was one of my dad’s favorite places, how his grandpa would take me and my sister there in the summer, that he loved to go for walks at sunset just like this. I said to O., the water’s freezing, but we could be brave and go in together if he wanted, just like me and my dad would, hold hands and count down—one, two, three!
I know none of this meant anything to him, but I hope that I can tell O. enough about my dad, that he can know how much he would’ve been loved. And I’ll be the one to remember his first time at the beach. How we hurried to get there before the sun went down, how I wore my clogs, and they filled up with sand. It was getting cold. There were dudes in wetsuits coming in from surfing and people camping around a fire. That I held him in my arms and pointed out everything we saw: the ocean, the waves, a boat, the moon.