prachelle's Journal

The boys have been sick for days. The flu ... some fever spikes. Then, some bounces to better health. But mostly run down and coughing. I've had them for five days with the illness. Peter had them for two. I want them to feel better. It makes me sad to see them so slow and sleepy and telling me they're going to bed early.

I went for a long walk on the beach today. I left the boys -- 10 & 12 -- home with food, the TV and cats. D10 was feeling better so he played with a neighbor for a long time. D12 was feeling yucky so he watched football. I called several times. Can you tell I feel a little guilty for leaving them. They didn't even seem to notice.

I came back two hours later. Only to find I'd forgotten the time change and it was really three hours later. THREE hours walking on the beach? It didn't seem like that long. I was just walking and thinking about Peter, how I don't feel love or anything, a new perspective on Peter's family, my family, who I want to become, my bucket list, the beach, the history of sea glass, my friends, how divorce shakes up my friendships, how I'm screwing up teh boys, a trip to Europe, my niece, my nephews, what career I'd like, my perception of money vs. Peter's perception, my spiritual retreat. I talked to a few folks, shared my sea glass with two little girls, took pictures of the lighthouse and pictures of the sun sinking into Lake Erie. 

I sang church songs "Be Not Afraid," country songs Tim McGraw "Live like you are dying ...," and Dr. Seuss -- Horton Hears a Who -- songs,  "Boil that dust speck ...," 

I stretched out my arms to hug the wind. I dug my feet deep in the sand. I rolled up my pant legs and waded in to my ankles. 

the waves were faint splashes.

Yesterday, D10 and I went to the beach. The winds were high, the waves six feet and it was a sand storm. I talked him into staying. We jumped up and let the wind push us. We ran with the wind at our back. We stood still, leaned back and let the wind hold us up. The best part? Spitting and watching the wind blow it 20 feet forward. You have to try this if you get a good windstorm. The spit spirals, or dips and rises as it whips away. You can trace the wind when you through light-weight driftwood into it, but spit is more personal and fascinating. Just as a 10-year-old who thinks mom is ultimately cool.

I told him that explains the saying "Don't spit in the wind." So he did it and it spattered on his coat. We laughed soooo hard. 

I have a good life.