Precious memories

We strolled along the water's edge listening to the gentle crunch of sea shells underneath our feet. Her little sandy fingers, wrapped around my index finger, tugged not only at my hand but also at the strings of my heart. I glanced down as the sunlight danced upon her hair and melted. This tiny little one, my youngest granddaughter, Heather, had absolute power over me. I gave in freely as she led the way down the beach. I would go to the ends of the earth for her.

A sandpiper fished in the surf and we stopped to watch. A sweet peal of laughter erupted and my granddaughter tugged at my arm. She'd seen another bird up ahead and wanted to go and chase him. Off we ran through the sand with a mission in mind. I loved feeling her tight little grip on my finger. She's pretty strong for a little tyke and if I hadn't kept up with her, I'd have probably had my finger pulled out of the socket.

We caught up to the bird just as he spread his wings and lifted off into the warm, salty air. It didn't matter to Heather. She was just happy to catch up to him. I watched her sweet, little face light up as another shore bird landed close by. Off we ran again, her sandy hand leading the way.

The day was more than half over as we continued to stroll up and down the beach. I could see the sun dropping steadily into the horizon. I tried several times to turn Heather back toward the rest of our group but without much luck. She is a determined little thing, and oh so cute!

Finally, after several attempts, I managed to corral Heather and herd her back toward her parents. I whispered gently, as we walked along, "Gigi is tired." I realized how, by this time of day, my energy had waned and I didn't like it. Heather was too young to understand the concept of being tired so I just kept on walking with her, a little less quickly than before. How could I ever give up spending time with her? Every single moment with her was priceless to me.

When we reached the beach chairs, Heather's attention shifted. I watched as she picked up her little plastic shovel and sand pail. She plopped down in the damp sand and began to dig. Oh, to be a child once again...

The warm sun caressed my shoulders as I stood looking out at the surf. There was such peace in the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. I stood quietly for several minutes just watching, listening, and being grateful to be alive. The beach has always held a special place in my heart and I've always felt closest to God here.

Last year, about this time, I was healing from surgery. It's hard to believe that's behind me now. I try not to think too much about all that's transpired in the past. I'd rather put cancer behind me and leave it there.

Suddenly, I felt the cold water lapping at my toes and I stepped back. I could hear Heather off to the side playing in the sand. Looking over at her, I thanked God for her good health and prayed she'd never experience cancer as long as she lived. I thought about all the girls in our family...my daughters, my nieces, my granddaughters, my sisters, my daughter in law....One in eight...those are the statistics. Who would be next to receive a breast cancer diagnosis? I prayed that none of them would fall prey to cancer's deadly grip.

A few minutes later, I felt something brush up against my leg. As I looked down, I saw Heather's outstretched fingers. They were all sandy from her recent play, but I didn't mind. She stood there, patiently waiting for me to take her hand, so I reached down slipped her little hand into mine. We turned into the sunset and began to walk, looking for shore birds to chase. Those little bits of sand ground deeply into my skin as she gripped my hand tighter and tugged on ahead. I had to speed up a bit to keep up with her but I was so thankful she'd chosen me...her Gigi...to be her walking buddy.

Life is so very short, and like sands through the hourglass, those moments pass quickly through our fingers if we're not careful. Taking time for making memories with Heather will always be top on my list of priorities. I want her to always remember me with fondness. Maybe she'll remember the feel of my hand in hers one day. I sure hope so because I'll always remember the feel of her little sandy fingers in mine.

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