Stay out of the Water

[a memory evoked by Sunday Scribblings]

When I was a little girl, my parents took us on vacation to Cape Cod in Massachusetts. The first trip was when I was about 10 months old. It took us two days to drive there in the family station wagon.

The next year we again rented a cottage on the beach. We went in early June - after school was out in Illinois, but before school was out in Massachusetts. It was like going from summer back to spring. The spring flowers were blooming "again" and everyone could stand to wear long sleeves again.

My parents planned some sight-seeing, but most time of most days was spent on the beach.

The older kids knew the rules about staying out of the water unless an adult was around to watch them. At not-quite-two I didn't know any rules, but my siblings kept a close eye on me. As it turns out, however, they had help.

Now in the backyard at home, my parents had a small sandbox for me to play in. So playing in sand was not a strange concept to me. But there was definitely something different about the sand on the Cape Cod beach. Every night, the tide came in and went out and it left stranded at the high-tide mark a pile of seaweed. By the time we emerged ready for a day on the beach, it was probably somewhat dried.

And scary.

I would not go near the stuff. And since it made a line parallel to the shore, it effectively cut me off from the water. I would watch my older sibs step over or through the stuff, but I wouldn't cross until they kicked a patch clear for me.

I'm told this worked for at least a couple of years.