I had plans. We all had plans. “The Covid” changed those plans.
I thought I’d be celebrating my July birthday in Music City with family and friends. That was clearly not meant to be. It was, however, replaced with what was meant to be.
I woke up Saturday morning. Grace, Hannah, and Megan were sound asleep. Billy and I snuck out of the room and headed up for coffee. The resort was quiet and provided us with a serene view of the water at low tide. We sipped and talked. We talked and sipped. We watched a fair weather cloud roll in erasing a small island from our picturesque view.
We had spent Friday night at a nearby resort to celebrate my birthday. It was a last minute call by my husband who had been struggling to find the “right” way to celebrate a milestone birthday in a pandemic. Everything about the day was simple, and dare I say, perfect. Kayaking, SUPing, eating, general family shenanigans.
After an hour of chatting and solving the worlds problems over coffee, Billy and I made our way back to our room. We snuck in and found Megan awake, poking around in the dark. We made our way to our little deck. We watched as the resort slowly came to life. We watched people wading in shallow waters searching for low tide life. Before we knew it, we found ourselves answering the call of the low tide.
We made our way down the beach, into the water, feeling the ripply soft sand beneath our feet. We waded in ankle deep water, heads bent, admiring the crabs and snails. We made our way to a patch of exposed sand. I led the way, Megan and Billy wading behind me. With each step, I could see something had been written in the sand. Curiosity drew me closer. I looked down and I was an awe at the number someone, a stranger, had written so clearly in the sand.
“The Covid” may have changed my plans for my milestone birthday, but as I bent down to have Megan take my picture, I knew I was right where I was meant to be.