“If I had a pony, I’d ride him on my boat”

To say that I love the ocean may be an understatement, but it will do. I never feel as liberated ( in all manners) as when I stand at/on/in the ocean. It’s as if the ocean’s counterpart lives within me, aching, with a force that might cause it to burst out of my skin, to return to its love: deep calling out to deep. Two enigmatic creations longing for their Creator, leaving me, the subsequent bystander, to deal with the paradoxical feelings of power/inferiority, eternity/finality, and familiarity/ignorance.  In those moments, I feel as close to how I imagine Moses did when standing on the cleft waiting for God to show His face: small, but known, loved, and encountered.

So, while in Corpus last weekend, we stumbled upon a wind and water competition (wind and kite surfing).  Watching these surfers float through the air and graciously contort/thrust their bodies on the water, as if extensions of it, I confess, made my sand-sunken self a little jealous.  I can’t surf. And seeing that we don’t have an ocean in central Texas, I imagine I never will. But, thanks to the subjuntive, I can build a whole imaginative world in a statement like this: if I did live near a beach, I would definitely be a surfer. Liam must have glimpsed a little of this imaginative world too, for Mother’s Day, he drew the picture above –mom windsurfing. 

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