This past weekend Janae, Neyla, and I went to the beach with some friends. It was a great couple of days filled with great conversation and beautiful views. There is something about the beach that just completely levels me, and I know I’m not alone in this. Everytime I watch the sunset over the Pacific the endless number of colors that come out are majestic. The bright orange ball with pinks, yellows, oranges, reds and purples surrounding it always seem to bring my faith in a higher, more beautiful power back again. That last moment when the bright orange ball finally dips beneath the surface of the ocean is truly mesmerizing. We are watching something that has happened everyday for billions of years, and yet every time it does, it is enthralling.
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| Sunset in Monterrico, Guatemala |
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The most fascinating moment of the weekend for me was much different. It reminded me the amazing perspective and creativity that kids have and how sad it is that so many of us lose that as we get older. Neyla loves playing in the sand, that girl will play and build and move sand around until she is covered in sand. Just the thought of that alone irks me. I don’t like feeling sand everywhere once I leave the beach. But Neyla doesn’t seem to care. She was playing in the sand, mixing water and sand and patting away with her hands. I asked her if she was building a sand castle, and she said no. That was the only thing that I could imagine building, I mean you have a few buckets, shovels and strainer, what else are you going to make out of black beach sand? She responded with a little 3 year old attitude, “I’m making goose apple pie daddy.” I chuckled and said, “What’s that?” She just shook her head and kept on making it. A few minutes later it was finished and she gave me a taste.
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For lunch we decided to take the beautiful 20 minute walk into the town of Monterrico for some fresh seafood. On the walk, I was carrying Neyla and we were running in and out of the waves. There were some teeny tiny crabs walking on the beach and Ney pointed them out to me. She said, “Daddy, do you know what a crab says?” I replied quizzically, “No?!?” She said, “Hi, I’m a crabbie.” How simple, too simple, I would have never thought of that.
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It makes me wonder why I’m not like that anymore. It makes me want to not raise this curiosity out of her. Picasso once said, “Everyone is born an artist, the problem is to remain one as we grow up.” Too many of us lose that sense of simplicity and creativity that make up the wonderment of childhood. I’m trying hard not to educate that out of my daughter, but I fear it’s already been ripped away from me. It’s never too late to regain what you’ve lost. This is one of the biggest lessons that I have learned by being a father, to find the beauty in simplicity. We miss it too much and I don’t want to be that way anymore. I’m using my 3 year old daughter as a role model in this way. I want more of that child like way of viewing the world with joy. I just want to be able to have a blast making goose apple pie in the sand. I want to appreciate those beautiful daily moments that have been happening for billions of years.
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