lapsedmodernist | Jul. 17th, 2008

Today I was bidding goodbye to this side of the Atlantic by splashing in its roaring waves, just this side of icy, despite the shimmering heat radiating from the sun pouring down and becoming something else, gentle and ethereal, in the foam, like the soul of The Little Mermaid.

Fionn, my beloved water baby, was perturbed by the violence and the roaring of Poseidon's foaming steeds. He cried several times down by the water, then grew more calm and curious, but then--my bad--I sat down with him in the sand, figuring that it was low tide, and we could let the small messenger waves that reached the shore wash over us. Then a wave that showed no sign of decelerating or diminishing overwhelmed and submerged us. At that point Fionn was done getting in touch with his aquatic roots.

He seemed to like the taste of seawater, though. Perhaps he will be like me, so in love with the sea that he won't wash his hair for days after swimming in the salty waves, and will love finding sand in his bedsheets for months after summer is over.