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"peace came upon me"
it's bright and hot today. a cloudless sky jewels blue above us as i walk down to the beach. our children are already there, following you to the shore, their laughter trailing as they gallop barefoot in the sand. both young, they cling to your swimming trunks as the three of you wade in.
i've brought drinks and food from the hotel room, for when all of you return swim-tired and lazy.
"it's alright, i've got you," i hear you say to our daughter. she won't let you go deeper into the water with her in your arms. our son already hangs from your shoulders, small and happy to be with you.
her whine carries back. she protests in the shallow water, caught on a sandbank. "but i can't! i'm scared."
i turn my attention away for a moment, tucking the edge of the beach towel into the sand as i eat from the picnic basket. i mouth the soft flour of a tortilla.
but i have no time as my daughter suddenly calls out for me. we joked when she was born that she had your neediness. "please come in," she yells.
i reach up and wave a hand at her. "i've got all this food here! what if the seagulls get it?"
"tell papa to let us come back then." i smile; she's quick-witted like you, too. she sways in the light waves. you lean down and say something to her. whatever it is makes her run towards me against the heavy seawater.
"papa said you can trade places with him," she hollers, breaking from the current and scrambling up the sand towards me. she kicks up granules onto the towel. "papa said you'd go with me," she repeats.
"if he comes back here with your brother?"
our daughter catches her breath, her shoulders heaving with exertion as she splutters out, "yes."
i nod, as if i've completed a business transaction, and take her hand. her skin's cool and grainy. her smile is like yours: thin-lipped and smirking and the depth of color in her eyes mimics that found in mine.
on the way into the water, shallow seafoam at my ankles, i cross paths with you.
you grin wide and adjust our son's hold around your neck. he's quiet and serene, eyes half-open and limbs weighted as his little legs flop over your shoulders.
"i brought burritos," i say to you and a laugh floats from my mouth.
"mmm," you pat our son's knee, "his favorite. maybe we'll go back upstairs after he eats."
"right. especially if this one," i nod towards our daughter, "gets cranky."
she's not paying me any mind. instead, she watches the water toss loose shells back and forth.
"of course," you say, reaching out with one hand. you brush your knuckles over my arm, sending a rush through my body. "they're very happy."
i look up at you, your face with eyes squinted against the sun and hair windswept and wild. you've gotten a light sunburn on your cheeks that turns them a soft, peachy pink.
"i know. . . it makes me happy."
you give me one last look in agreement and shuffle through the water to the beach.
"alright," i say to my daughter and bend down in the water so she can wrap her arms around my neck. she climbs over me and with a tight hold on her legs, we venture farther out. "see," i tell her. "nothing to fear."
i go as far as i can, the water up to my shoulders, and let go of my daughter's legs. she floats, her knees no longer pressing into my sides, and i hear her mumble something in her high-pitched voice.
we took her out to the beach when she was a baby and watched her play in the sand, tossing her pail and bucket towards the water. you'd made her a sandcastle which she promptly destroyed.
now she's five years old and her little voice catches in my ear.
"look at that," she points into the ocean at a boat moving in the distance.
"i see," i say.
"what are they doing out there?"
"fishing, maybe, i'm not sure."
"oh! papa took us fishing!"
"i remember," i tell her. camping by the road with our fishing poles and bait. she'd caught a little thing which she slipped back into the water.
now, she rambles and i turn back towards the beach. i notice you in the distance with our son in your lap. the cool stench of ocean water lingers everywhere, paired with the fruit juice sweetness of my daughter's breath. i rub her arm and smile to you on the shore.
( for endless-nameless i really enjoyed writing this! i left the children's names up to interpretation :) anyways, i'd love to accept more requests if anyone has more )
