Stacking The Deck

My vague goal here is to explore what makes place important, or not--my place in particular. I'm motivated to do this as I try to comprehend my personal balance of family, work and play. For a series of moments this evening, my understanding of the value of my choices was crystal clear.

Work was average today. It rained some, the bane of the construction worker. But, on average we continued to enjoy a break in what seemed like an endless heat wave, and I am on the cusp of getting all of the people that depend on me back to very steady work for the next nine months or so. On the cusp, not quite there. Put another way, there is some end in sight to the greatest recurring stress of my professional life.

As I wrapped things up today though, I found myself near my daughter's daycare, picked her up a little early, and took her with me to finish the day at the office. We walked down to the ocean together before heading home. I was hoping for a little wave to ride later in the evening, but it didn't look to promising. We got home and kissed wife/mom, depending on which one of us you asked, and I slipped out for a quick motorcycle ride-my choice B afterwork grown-up stress reliever. I was feeling pretty relaxed as I turned into the driveway, only to see wife, daughter and dog headed to the beach. I caught up. Child and dog wandered the beach and played and fetched, respectively. Special lady friend and I followed and monitored and sipped beverages. The surf looked better and better. I commented to wife. We brought the brood home and she suggested I go catch a few waves. Really? Choice A and B adult afterwork relaxation in one day?

The surf was in fact not good. Two short rides and a little stretching the limbs really. But, the air was just below too hot. The water was just above too cold. The eastern sky was a deep grayish blue, shaking off the days thunder showers. The western sky was a blazing orange sunset. The north and south held every color in between. All the while, it was all so understated. I wouldn't describe it as perfect. It was just great, and made greater by its ease, and its ease is a function of its proximity.

Proximity is what stacks the deck in my favor. That's why we bet on this hand (to drive a metaphor into the ground). The move to Duck was a move closer to the things that can't make everyday perfect, but serve as a constant thumb on the scale of life. Tonight the ocean was in the middle, like a comfortable old friend; refreshing, not to exciting. Sometimes it reminds us how insignificant we are. Other days it cradles us like children. When you are trying to balance a life, being steps from an ocean that makes you feel like a child, and within view of sunsets over the sound that make you feel like a king, it's hard not to feel like you are cheating.

In September, the visitors will thin out, my guys will all have plenty to do, and my wife and I will walk with our daughter to the beach. She will push further into the water than we want, but no farther than I would in her position. She will hold up a jellyfish, or sea star, or sea glass for our inspection. Her lips will be just turning blue. Her grin will be irrevocable. I will beam down at her secure in the knowledge that if her mother and I have given her nothing else, we've given her proximity to the sea. She will learn volumes from the sea, but what is more, I hope wherever she goes, she will feel close to it.