Sand Through The Hourglass

As the lights blinked on in the laundry room, my gaze landed on the cracked plastic frame holding an old photo and a weathered postcard. Annika had been only a year old, almost twenty-five years ago now. It had been the first for her of many trips to a lake in Northern Minnesota. I would never forget that particular day. A frustrating day with a life-changing message from my dear grandmother-in-law.

***

The beach beckoned. There it was. I could see it, but would we ever reach it? It should have been a short walk from the rustic cabin; a curved path and about ten steps, a brief distance had I been unencumbered. I was, however, heavy laden. A foldout chair and a large backpack weighed me down. A blanket hung haphazardly over the chair. On either side of me waddled a one-year-old toddler and an eighty-year-old grandmother.

I scooped Annika into my right arm, moved the chair up around my left shoulder and grabbed Pella’s arm firmly with my left hand. 

Ok, I thought, at least a turtle’s pace is a slight improvement over the snail’s.

“Some vacation,” I muttered under my breath. The guys awoke at the crack of dawn and would be sunning and casting all day long. Sighing, I struggled to hold on to the squirming Annika. Pella stopped short. She had some trouble seeing the form of the steps. At least we had made it to the steps.

My heart constricted suddenly. Oh no, I had left the picnic basket at the cabin. Tears welled in my eyes. Water and crackers were the only form of sustenance in the backpack. There was no way to go back now. With a moan, I moved the group slowly down one more step.

Two limber teenagers hopped quickly around us, running and laughing into the water ahead. Honestly, it had taken them a full ten seconds to get there. Incredible! Had I ever been that young and carefree? The backpack was nothing compared to the weight in my heart at that moment.

Finally, we arrived at the last step. We moved ahead a few more feet as I lowered Annika to the sand, twisted to remove the chair, pulled it out for Pella and gently lowered her onto the seat.

Sighing again wearily, I laid down the blanket and wondered again about lunch.

Pella reached over and touched my shoulder.

“You’re missing it,” she said.

“What? Missing what?” I asked.

 “Missing the moment.”

“Grandma, what are you talking about? Is the sun too hot for you? I’m wondering if we need to head back to the cabin early for lunch. I forgot the picnic basket. Although I can’t imagine how I could have carried one more thing!”

“Honey, don’t worry so much. I remember how it feels to be a young mom. Your work is never done. But stop now. Smell the fresh air and breeze. Look at your beautiful daughter. Etch this in your mind forever.”

I turned and focused my attention on Pella, so frail and weak, with her head raised to the sun, eyes closed with a smile on her face.

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere or maybe the shift took place only in my heart.

“Was it hard for you, too?” I asked softly.

“Oh I’m sure it was, dear. I know there were days when I would crumble into bed at the end of the day, wondering how I could do it all again the next. But you know, today, it all seems like a blessing. Those wild boys turned into fine young men. And now I treasure the memories of those days. I wish I had stopped more often to memorize the details, the sights and sounds. It all goes so very fast.”

The self-pity evaporated into the warm breeze. The crackers and water were sufficient as the sun shone on us for the next three hours. Annika fell instantly in love with the beach and the picture taken would become a favorite. Chubby legs, naked upper body, droopy diaper and a big pair of sunglasses. Sand clung to every inch of her including her hair, and she was giddy with joy.

And nothing seemed to bother the curly headed mom with the shovel in her hand and the goofy grin on her face as she looked down at her adorable little girl.

***

Reflecting on those long-ago beach memories, I realize the heavy laundry basket feels light today. I trace the outline of Annika over the plastic frame and then step outside, lowering the basket, lifting my head to the sun with a smile on my face.  I will call Annika in a little while, I think, as I hang the sheets on the line, and we’ll plan a trip to the lake. Tired moms of toddlers sometimes need a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Her children rise up and call her blessed. Proverbs 31:28 (NKJV)