Beached

The 23rd of September recently passed, reminding me of how little I have grown. The autumnal equinox arrives only once a year, marking when the tilt of the Earth's axis inclines neither toward or away from the Sun. For my family, it means summer is over and beach days are done for the year. This year, I must confess that I did not take my mother-in-law out for a beach trip.

Since she has lived with us, I have made the effort to take her out on such excursions. Our first trip was exciting. The temperature was perfect, with a slight breeze, and the beach landscape was gorgeous. We found a quiet spot right by the water with barnacle laced rocks to sit on. We enjoyed the fresh ocean air and the rough touch of the sand, until, unexpectedly to her, water splashed onto her shirt. My sons had been swimming and frolicking in the water. Unaware of her aversion to getting wet, the boys had brought their splash game a little too close to our seating area.

Offended, and fearful that her health was in danger because she might get sick, my mother-in-law put a damper on the day's events. I extended to her a towel, had the kids pack up, and we pretty much wrapped up our business there in a matter of minutes. In the car I cranked the heater on high and bought her a hot coffee from Dunkin Donuts on the quiet trip back. In hindsight, she still recalls joyful memories of that first trip, especially when she revisits the photos of herself on the rocks, wearing a huge, light blue beach hat and movie star sunglasses. I had vowed to myself to never take her out to the beach again with the children. It was their day to enjoy and because of her it was ruined.

But during those first few years we were all just getting to know each other's temperaments and personalities. The following summer, against my own promise to myself, I decided to take my mother-in-law and the children (my husband was out of town) to the Cape for a couple days. It was the perfect mini-vacation. The hotel was luxurious, the beaches were beautiful, the weather was perfect, the food fantastic. Even the long drive went along quickly enough, with good conversation and moments of silence which did not feel awkward. During those moments I felt we really bonded and that our family was truly united.

A few weeks later she accused me of wronging her and overall being a bad person.

Once bitten, twice shy. Twice bitten, you're beached.

I did enjoy two wonderful beach trips with my children this summer. Swimming, exploring, sitting and talking on the shore with pizza, soda, and fried dough from the boardwalk. It was peaceful and fun, but a small part of me wished she could have joined us. That is, wished that I could have asked her to join us. I reassure myself that all is forgiven; everyone has their emotional outbursts; everyone gets fed up. But like the Earth I am neither inclined toward her, the symbolic Sun, or away from her. We have managed to live with each other since that fall-out, but as for me, no intense feelings of hate or love overwhelm me when I think of her. Had I grown spiritually, this would have changed to the later.

My next benchmark is March 20 or 21st of 2012. God-willing we will both be alive and I can only pray that I grow.