It rained and then it rained some more and just when we thought it was going to stop, it started again and then... it was sunny. No wind- just beautiful, lovely sunshine. So I figured it was time to excavate my son from the pile of toys in the living room and get some air.
Funny thing about raising your son on the same property you grew up in is that you take your kid to the very same places you tromped as a little person. Only the Fort Bragg I grew up in is different than the one he's living in today. Times have indeed changed. The Pudding Creek Trestle I remember was behind barbed wire and certainly ill-advised what with it's hundred years of wear. The Trestle of today is gleaming, with a view of Fort Bragg and Pudding Creek to one side and an amazing view of the Pacific on the other.
And, it is really fun to race on. No holes to watch for and guard rails abound so even jumpy mom's like myself can relax while their little people run up ahead.
When I was a kid, we'd climb over or under the barbed wire fencing that kept people off the rotting old Trestle. It was a bit sketchy, sure, but we were kids and had no concept of possible death or disfigurement. We had it all figured out.
And the sun was soft and lovely on our shoulders and cheeks. My boy gathered sticks and was mindful of the seaweed piles, of which he's not fond. We raced and romped. On the far side of the beach is the creek. This is where he wanted to play. My best friend and I used to play in this very creek for what felt like all summer, floating on logs, pretending to be Madonna in her Cherish video, the occasional algae fight. It was awesome.
He rescues a Seagull feather floating in the water, victorious.
He threw it back in, wanting to watch it float down stream again.
It kept on floating, all the way out to sea.
He was really bummed.
Lucky for us both, this is a beach where Seagulls hang out so it did not take us long to find a replacement feather.
Then all was right in the world again.