I’m sitting here on the sandy beach typing this blog post into my iPhone.
I’m marveling at children doing cartwheels on the beach. In my present physical state of enduring back and hip problems, if I tried to do a cartwheel, I would either majorly embarrass myself or majorly hurt myself. In either case, the choice not to attempt one is best.
Nevertheless, watching the energy of these girls as they twirl and tumble at the edge of the ocean has taken me back in time—to vacations with my own grandparents, aunts and uncles, and immediate family, and to twirling and tumbling myself. To throwing to football and riding bikes. To nights playing putt-putt and laughing till we cried. Being here in Bethany Beach brings back warm and fond memories of a childhood filled with quite an abundance of love and just all-around good things.
I count myself fortunate for the memories and to being here making new ones.
As for the cartwheels, one never knows. Maybe a new hip will buy me a twirl or tumble someday down the road.
