My mom has been staying with me and the kids at the beach the last couple of nights, while Nick is on a hunting trip. Our beach house is a small cabin-like house, with one big room acting as living, dining, and bedrooms. There are three beds made up, and a couch. It's very cosy, and so reminiscent of my youth, that I feel perfectly at home here. One of the best parts of the beach house, in my opinion, is that it has no electricity. We have a generator to supply power when we want it, but when it's turned off at night, only the moon and the sound of the waves are there to lull you to sleep. It's perfect.
Last night the kids, especially Christian, had an awful time going to bed. Tonight I was prepared for a repeat, but was pleasantly surprised when they went down with only the slightest of complaints. My mom and I both wanted to finish the books we have been reading, but didn't have much need for the power to be on, so I made the trek out into the jungle to turn off the generator. We keep it a fair distance from the house because of the noise, and I used to dread the journey, fearing strange noises in the dark. Tonight, out of habit, I hurried out and back to the house, then joined my mom on the front porch where we both had out books, small lamps, and glasses of wine.
So this is it, I am currently writing while in my beautiful moment. The moon either hasn't risen, or hasn't been able to peek out from behind the clouds yet, so it's very dark. There are occasional drips off the roof from the brief rain we just had, and the ocean is beating the steady rhythm of the ebbing and flowing waves. My children are sleeping, and I feel an all encompassing peace. I don't think I could find a more comfortable place to be if I searched the world over. At this moment, I am surrounded by a soothing beauty. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a trashy beach novel to get to.
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