"Beach walk?” I casually whisper to my wee
little granddaughter, Mary Grace. Radiant smile,
curls bobbing an emphatic “Yes!” she slips her
whole small hand around my two fingers and
we cross the weathered grey boardwalk over
the dune and then wind through our time-worn
sandy path past waving sea oats emerging to
her first glimpse of the ocean.
Walking carefully, sedately at first at her toddler pace, in our days by the water and there is much neuroscience
we cross first the hotter, softer sand above the high tide to validate these findings.
line until very soon we are on the cool, smooth, hard May I recommend you do your own research in the
sand where the ocean is receding at low tide. Here is coming weeks and months? Bring your youngest, tiniest
where Mary Grace no longer needs my helping hand and friend to the shore or bring those sweetest memories of
instead, begins her full tilt, tiny girl run to the ocean, your youngest self playing by the ocean. Discover how
exuberant baby laughter competing with the mirthful cry quickly the stressful voices in our heads quiet as they
of seagulls arcing overhead. She only slows when she is are replaced with the mother of all sounds, the ocean’s
knee-deep and the cool, briny water begins tickling each percussive, rhythmic advance and retreat of waves
of her ten baby toes. Mary Grace, knowing she is in her embracing the shore. Float weightless in the sea, defying
element, throws her arms wide and tilts her face and gravity’s pull as you are enveloped in a joyous peace;
her smile up to the sun and the Carolina blue and white float your little mermaid friend as I did this summer on
cumulus cloud sky. Even after calling Emerald Isle home a pure July day when the waves were gentlest. Blessing
for over five decades, my heart still skips a beat every upon blessing, our family welcomed two new grandsons
time I come over that dune, bare feet squeaking through this past winter and by next summer their little hands
the sand, and thrill to the hue of the ocean on that day. will curve around mine as we climb over the dune before
Each seaside moment offers a choice of capricious colors running on their chubby brown legs to the ocean. Today,
of blue, sometimes deep grey, or my favorite, sunlight for Mary Grace, is her last day on Emerald Isle for this
green with shadows of turquoise and deepest indigo. I’m summer visit. Mommy and Daddy are waiting, and the car
guessing you love Emerald Isle also, or perhaps you have is packed. We begin the slow walk from the ocean back
never visited our beaches—yet—but you are yearning to up to the cottage. Once again her dimpled hand is curled
find your “water”. Marine biologist Wallace J. Nichols, just so around my two fingers. She stops determinedly
Ph.D., author of Blue Mind, has made it his life’s work to and I brace for what I think will be another sprint back to
research what pulls humankind to the blue spaces on the sea. Instead, she half pirouettes and raises her small
our planet; what makes us wish to claim the singularity hand, then waves, “Bye, bye beach! Bye, bye” and races
of one particular beach, the water you wish to return to to catch up with Daddy and Mommy.
yet again and again to share with family and dearest
friends. We really do feel happier and yes, even healthier
Julia Batten Wax