I rolled out of bed early to watch the sun rise over the ocean, with feet tucked tight underneath me and hands wrapped around a coffee cup. It is our last day here and I tie my salt-soaked hair up in bun and then quietly steal in her room as I hear her stirring.
I carry her down the boardwalk, her head nestled on my shoulder and arms wrapped tight around my neck because it is early and she is sleep laden but I do not want her to miss this.
She wakes up fully as we approach the waves and I am wanting to see more than shells this morning, to show her the vast expanse of God’s great creation. I was hoping to find a sand dollar maybe, or a crab scuttling sideways across the sand but the shore looks bare but for the broken bits of shells and sticks.
(I have the privilege of posting today over at Mothers of Daughters and I hope you’ll visit and read the full post here, as it tells the story of one my favorite moments in motherhood so far.)
