Clinging joyfully to her dad, giggling in the waves. I see a little watermelon swimsuit and a tangle of wavy-curls held up in the air by the arms that held me while I birthed her, while I birthed her brother, while I mourned the passing of my grandmother, while I shook in grief over the passing of several dear friends. The arms that cradled her and her bothers as they have fallen asleep over the years. The arms that pull me close when I cannot sleep. Her legs kick up and down as the waves crash into them. I cannot see her face but recognize excitement. Comfort. Glee.
Trust is a lovely thing.
I often snug her close to me when she is afraid or hesitant. I often whisper “cling close, Keenie-bee. Together we’ll be big.”
They are big together in those waves. She is borrowing from his size and the safety that he offers to squeal with laughter in a place where she might otherwise feel fear.
Friends, family and loved ones are like that. Each of us is tiny on the face of this spinning world. But together? Together we are big. Together this world is less a place of fear and more one that offers opportunity for profound joy.