Nathan spent two straight hours in the ocean today. He'd come out and beg us to come in (which we did occasionally) and then he'd dump himself back into the waves. He's only seven for six more days. This is how he's spending his last days as a seven-year-old. Friends with the ocean.
He couldn't even come out long enough to dry off so I could re-sunblock him. So he's a little red tonight. I was watching him in the waves and I figured out why he loves the ocean so much. There's always something new coming at him. The waves are variable, and strong. They keep coming. No matter what, something new and challenging is coming at him, every ten seconds. This is Nathan's perfect environment. He's always on the go, and the ocean is always on the go too. The ocean is even a tiny bit ahead of him. So the firey Nathan has found a perfect rhythm, a second home.
Those waves pounded us. I went in and held his hand into the deep water. There was a big wave and I told him "HOLD ON TIGHT!" and we went under, while the water tore at us like a high powered washer. Ripping. All I could feel was our hands clenched together while the swirled world went crazy. He sputtered as we came up. "Let's go in," he said, knowing his limits. A smart man, knows him limits, respects the power of the ocean.
Watching him float and swim and dunk under waves, and look back and smile and wave, drip and splash - those waves crashing and flat, growing and crashing then flat, the momentum bigger than us, the rhythm happening whether we watch or not, whether we're in the midst of the water or not.
I guess the power of it relaxes a small human mind. Nature is in charge. Nature and Nathan. Nathan runs at me, dripping, seven, nature all over him. "Come on, Mom."
He leads me to all the best places.
