i want to remember
liz lamoreux
I want to remember:
The sound of your laughter as we ran toward the water together.
The way you danced, singing to yourself as you picked up sand and felt the texture between your fingers.
Your excitement when we both walked ankle deep into the water in our rain boots so we could "wait for the waves."
The feel of your hands taking mine each time you were convinced "a big one is coming this time Mama."
The neverending giggles when the water went all the way down into your boots and how you were delighted that your socks were soaked.
The moment when I remembered you've been off of your heart medication for a year now.
The way you would run to Daddy and Millie to update them on how big the waves were and how funny it was when that HUGE one even got my pants wet.
The gentle kindness you showed Millie as you shared the backseat during our long drive to and from the coast.
The way you chatted during our entire picnic that we ate tucked into the back of the car, watching the waves and feeding carrots to Millie.
The truth that even in the midst of the stuff that is hard, life really is this beautiful.