Saturday, July 24, 2010


She would sit for hours in her beach chair facing the horizon. Every now and then she would lean forward thinking maybe, perchance she saw them. My mother’s eyes never stopped scanning the horizon in hopes to see the dolphins jumping and moving through the Gulf like a serpentine ribbon. Many a night, at the Gulf and at home, she would sit on the patio and watch the stars. She was always amazed at the thought of satellites floating above us. But, mostly, she was watching for a falling star. For the seventeen years I was at home, I can think of three schools of dolphins and not a single falling star.

And yet I can tell you her search was not in vain. She saw soaring pelicans tuck their wings and like missiles dive beneath the water’s surface only to pop up, bobbing on the waves, with a fish still flipping in their mouth. She saw sunsets and sunrises that many never saw. She saw flocks of birds in the air and along the shore. I do believe one Heron knew her by name. She saw the colorful windsurfers gliding along the waves and she was never ever without the sound of the waves.

At night she saw satellites moving across the sky. She saw an eclipse and she always found the constellations she knew. She watched planes with their lights blinking fly above and wondered about their travels. And she never ever was without the face of the moon.

Sometimes, I guess, it’s a matter of perspective, how you look, and your openness and wonder. And so, at the end of a very difficult week, I remind myself it’s ok to search. Yes Beth, always be faithful to your search. But little one, never ever forget to see.