“From where the sun now stands I will go in the ocean no more forever,†declared my younger son a few weeks ago when we went back to spend a few days on our old island.
Okay, those might not have been his exact words, him not being Chief Joseph and all, but he was disgruntled the day we arrived and felt the colder-than-normal water temperatures. Disappointed, he declared it too cold to enjoy and offered up his boycott of disapproval to the Atlantic.
Knowing his life is a living demonstration of the word “tactile,†I laughed to myself while nodding and donning my “I understand†face. That boy, I knew, would be in that ocean before I’d finished the cup of coffee I was drinking.
And so he was, unable to resist the Atlantic’s allure.
He, of course, maintains that he didn’t really go in the ocean that day because he remained in his regular clothes the whole time.
The things we tell ourselves, all to save face when strong spirits prove weak against the tactile pleasures of the sea.