August 18, 2011
As we skipped down the platform to the beach, Nora Jones gently sang from the cafe across the street. The waves were soft, just a poof, poof, poof, not a crash crash crash.
I scanned the beach for familiar faces, but despite the glorious sunshine, the beach had only my littlest daughter and I, plus a handful of tourists. The polar blast which brought snow for the first time in 72 years was now a distant memory, although really only three days old.
The bright sun danced on the water like glitter. Little one said the water looked magic. She was right.
As I walked, I noticed some writing in the sand. Very neatly, with straight lines someone had written “Minka”.
Minka lost her life a couple of weeks ago to cancer. She was beautiful and smart and loving. I mean really beautiful. Her eyes sparkled, her smile beamed. She radiated. When my little one first met her. she thought Minka was a fairy. She wasn’t even wearing wings. She left behind a 13 year old son and an island of friends.
I looked around the beach for the author, but they were gone. “Minka” just “Minka”. I thought her name needed something more, and since the author was gone, I picked up a shell and drew a heart in front of her name. Yes, that’s better I thought, much more artsy and vivacious. As I was finished a second heart, an extra large wave came from behind. I jumped out of the way and turned around.
“Minka” disappeared into the glittery sea.
With that one wave.
The next waves were smaller.
I stood for a moment, closing my eyes, feeling the mix of sun and a cool breeze on my face and hair.
My five-year old collided into my knees with her hug.
I cried of gratitude.
I fully savored life in that moment.
For us both.