Absolute favorite place to go for vacation: The Oregon Coast. Took the family (all but Michaelyn, who stayed behind to work and socialize) a couple of weeks ago; Frank had just accepted a job and asked for a little time before he started. Rented a house between Newport and Waldport overlooking the beach…was it Seal Rock? Seal Cove? Something like that. And we listened to the waves and splashed in them and flew kites and combed the beach and were content. That’s all, really. Feet in sand and gravel and water, playing and looking for cool beach stuff.
And I learned it is good to be still sometimes. To be quiet and let good things come to me
We were eager to hunt agates; there was a big jar of impressive ones on the coffee table of the house we rented. We read how it is easier to find them at low tide, after the ocean has done its washing and pounding and sifting of the beaches. Easier to see them with the sunlight glowing behind them (many agates are nearly transparent). Easier to see them when they’re wet.
The first day I squinted and peered at the gravel. I looked hard; I scrutinized; but I didn’t see much in the way of agates. Only a few tiny ones. Didn’t gather many. My kids had better luck. At first I was disappointed, but then I noticed the pretty shell fragments. Not whole shells, but pieces of shell that had been tossed in sand and water so long that their rough edges were smooth and soothing to my hand. The fragments were beautiful to me, and so I gathered them. Thinking I’d make…oh, I don’t know, some sort of shell mosaic with them when I got them home. They were a delight to find, glistening seductively amongst the dark gravel and beige sand of the beach. I was content. And then, maybe because I wasn’t looking so hard for them, I began to discover agates with the shells. Some were even big. With each discovery, I experienced the same giddy joy that I had as a child, finding a pretty rock or a lost marble in the dirt. Meanwhile, the kids played and searched too, sharing their discoveries. And then, when we’d had enough of searching, we’d fly kites or jump waves. Euphoria.
Twice, other beach combers offered my children handfuls of agates they’d found that morning. Their generosity seemed vast to us. I suppose that they were content in their searching, too.
I just have to say, we had a lovely time.
