Eileen Loveman Daily Posting

I had some scheduled time off this morning and was able to finish up an errand earlier than I thought. Being it was a beautiful and hot summer morning, I decided to head for the beach at Lake Ontario. I have a lawn chair and a blanket that I keep stashed in the trunk of my car. Depending on my mood, I will use one or the other.

As I carried my lawn chair under one arm and sandals in the other hand, I saw all the mothers with young children who had the very same idea. They were all headed for the lake's rim, to sit in their chair or lay out their blanket, and enjoy the first genuine days of summer.

I thought about how my children used to love to come to the beach when they were smaller. I tried to take them at least a couple of times during the summer, not really able to get off of work too much to take them everyday. Sometimes the baby sitter would take them, but I would worry the whole day knowing they were there without me.

My toes securely dug into the sand, I sat legs outstretched, in my summer cotton shift, no stockings and no shoes. It was glorious to feel the warmth of the sun on my legs an on my arms. My vision spied to the right of me a ship sailing off the horizon, heading towards other places. Kids were slowly edging out further and further in the water towards the boat, some bravely taking steps by themselves, others clinging to their mother's hands, some with arms festooned around their waists. Some mothers on the beach would guard their little ones from afar, their eyes never leaving the path of their explorers. At the sound of "Mommy!" fifteen heads turn towards the water in unison. Inevitably it is only to "watch me, watch me, Mommy!"

Sea gulls fly overhead and they sing as they go by. A little girl sings a made up song about Ontario Beach, "OnTArio, OntarIO", an emphasis on different syllables every time she sings it.

The ship is now directly in front of my vision out to sea. A woman crosses in front of me, walking with a cane. In the sand and in this heat, the joy shows on her face as she smiles when she crosses in front of me. Because she can.

I notice that several mothers have ventured farther out now, allowing their children to inch out as well, a little space at a time. Some more adventurous than others only needing to have their mother close by. Some still clinging, and pleading, "Don't let go Ma, please don't let go."

The mantra arises a catch in my throat, for my youngest is fighting me with all her might right now. She is in crisis and will not allow me to hold her. As much as she repels me, the stronger and more determined I become. Her words have become like acid, hurled at my face to cause pain and anger. But I am steely. I am her mother. She tries harder still to see if I will lessen my grip on her, daring me to let go for just a moment, to become disoriented.

I do not.

I can not.

She is my child.

The ship has now passed to the left of me, headed towards other destinations, it's arrival the culmination of a great journey.

I know you are terrified, my dear daughter. I will be strong for you. I will never let go, Moogie. We will make this journey together. Hold on to me until this storm passes.

My allotted time has passed and it is time for me to pack up my chair and go. I look out towards the ocean now, the ship out of my sight. But still in my heart.

I am your mother. I will never let go.