Could You Remember This Too?

It is late, very late for a 5 year old, 7 year old, 10 and 11 year old. The sand is cooling, squishing and scratching between our toes.

“Is this real sand,” I ask him. “or did they bring it in?”

It looks different than what we’ve all known. White waves crash up against the darkened beach, the moon etching them against the night sky. People laugh and joke and tell stories, couples cuddle up on picnic blankets and beach towels, the air is damp and cool and rank with the sea after the hot day.

The first crack sends the littlest to my lap as the crowd’s head’s turn skyward toward an explosion of fiery lights. She nestles in as each blast draws a series of “oo’s” and “ah’s” from the ethereal beachline. The oldest sits tall behind me, her sand covered knee lightly pressed into my back. The middle two flank each of my sides, leaning in, jaws gaping as colours errupt across the sky. My husband is just behind me, I reach out my hand and lightly touch his leg, he knows. My heart catches in my throat and I can barely swallow it down.

“If I had a wish, it’s that you’d remember this day forever.” I whisper.

Could you remember the unsuppressed laughter as icy cold waves crashed into your sun kissed legs from beneath the wooden pier?

Could you remember soaring through the air on hand painted, magical beasts, to the sounds of the circus pumped through a piped music box?

Could you remember your mother’s brave face as you climbed hand in hand to the gate and then her hysterical scream looping, twisting, turning while you laughed at her death grip and her eyes squeezed tight.

Could you remember this? Because the year has been hard.

I remember the days lying in a darkened room, given in to the exhaustion only to be interrupted by terrifying nightmares so real I could see and touch and smell my fear with staggering reality.

I remember my chest tightening, breath shortening, tears escaping, scrambling to find any control, to pull it back.

I remember feeling emotionally dead, numb from everything that mattered and so very worried it would be our new normal that this is what we would remember.

But today we are together and there is such joy. Could we remember this too?