The sea raises questions and answers others
It’s nearing the end of our holiday and contemplation is the order of the day on Eastern Beach following a visit to see my grandfather. Daniel (5) and I are sat along with the rest of the family on the shore taking in the infinite expanse of Med stretching East over the horizon yet smoothly rolling up to within 2 metres of our toes. Whereas my eyes were firmly fixed on the horizon and wondering what’s on the other side, Daniel’s eyes were clearly far more interested on the rythym of ebb and flow that was defining the point where sea meets gently sloping sand.
“Dad…”
“Yes Dan”
“… does the water control itself?”
Summoning up my best and totally inadequate understanding I answered the question cobbling together all those unimportant facts learned at school too long ago about tides, wave action, the moon, the properties of liquids, forces. He seemed happy with the explanation. My reaction, not shared with Dan of course, combined a sigh of relief that my loosely tied string of recalled knowledge had made sense, admiration of the intellect and desire to know behind his question and questions of my own about the inevitable changes in my relationships with my boys as we get older.
For Daniel he understood a little more about the sea and especially that small corner of it where the Mediterranean starts and ends which I have been floating my thoughts upon for nearly 40 years now. His understanding (or is it his total acceptance of his Dad’s explanation?) gave him the confidence later to have a first go at a running diving from the shore, even though he is currently just stepping onto the threshold of swimming unaided. His smile at being able to go under without fear was a picture. It beamed again and again, and became wider still when I explained how to get further by timing his run and jump with the withdrawing sea.
For me it reinforced the fact that I am unlikely to ever take a space that has given me so much for granted; I’m both thankful for the chance to share it with my children and that it will shape them as it has shaped me. I’m also left knowing all too clearly that I won’t always be able to answer Daniel’s or any of the boys’ questions; the answer to how both I and they will all deal with that is out there somewhere between the water’s edge and the ever changing place just beyond the horizon, in the clear, breezy air that defines the surface or the quiet stillness beneath it.

