To the Beach

Frozen casseroles, shopping lists, stacks of snacks and sandwiches

Phone calls, Facebook messages, google maps, planning

Gathering, packing, packing

All worth the time we planned to have

Seeing family rarely seen, giving our kids a chance to build relationships

Showing our children the ocean for the very first time

And maybe the last time for two who may not see much longer

Coughing, coughing, crying just four hours into a thirteen hour drive

Just four hours into our happy trip

Impromptu stop for medicine, hoping it's a fluke

Maybe it's allergies

Until the second one starts in

Between the lingering coughs from a week-old cold

And the new frantic hacking coming on

We sound more like a mobile tuberculosis ward

Than a family on their way to the beach

Fevers just starting as we pull into my brother's

And the first words out of my mouth are

"I'm so sorry"

So sorry to bring with us whatever plague is ensuing

So sorry that I didn't know this was coming

That I can already see that this won't be the retreat that we had all hoped

And that there is nothing any of us can do about that now

Hand washing, sanitizing, "cover your mouth," "no hugging your cousins"

Wondering, should we go forward still? Should we go home?

High fevers, tears, ibuprofen, robitussin, nebulizer breathing treatments

CVS Minute Clinic confirms it's influenza

But we're already here, already in this too deep

So we push ahead, determined now

We're going to milk a few sweet memories out of this trip
In between the miseries

Hannah's cousin checks on her, lying listless on the couch

"Should I get you a cool rag for your forehead?

That's what my mom gets for me when I have a fever, and it helps a lot."

He kneels beside her, totally unprompted, praying

"Dear God, please help Hannah feel better"

And I see that we are making sweet memories

Though not the kind we had planned

Naomi's fever begins just before we are to leave for the beach house

I question myself again

Are we heading the right direction?

North or south? North or south?

We load the van, still unsure which way we will go

I call Naomi's doctors who agree to call in Tamiflu for her

We find a pharmacy at our destination that will have it tomorrow

Then abandoning safety Matt carries her to the car

Lays her in the front seat, reclined, while she whimpers

And I squeeze into the back seat in her place

We. Are. Going. To. The. Beach.

Coughing, coughing the whole way there

Four kids running fevers, me passing out ibuprofen to the kids with healthy kidneys

Tylenol to two with bum kidneys, and nothing for poor Naomi

She can't have either

She fights the fever the old fashioned way, with rest, cool rags, and prayer

I log temps, and medication doses in a notebook

Passing mess and charting like the influenza ward nurse on overtime

Undaunted

We. Are. Going. To. The. Beach.

Pulling in after dark Naomi is writhing now, crying that she just wants a bed

Fever is 103.5

We tuck her in, make her drink, drink, drink

Plug in the nebulizer, make the rounds to the others with albuterol, steroids,

Meds, charting, meds, charting

Go to sleep, little ones, we made it

Maybe you will feel better in the morning

Please, Lord, let us all feel better in the morning

The beach house is beautiful, smells fresh and salty and summery

A welcome reprieve from the Indiana winter we have invaded it with

Large and airy, decorated with flip-flops, anchors, sea-shells, trinkets

And pictures of a family always in white, always on the warm sandy beach

Wind-tossed and happy
We made it

Restless sleep, making rounds every few hours, checking fevers, passing meds

6:00 am coaxing Naomi into a tepid bath, hoping to woo her fever down a few degrees

Achy and exhausted at breakfast

A bleary-eyed Elijah looks over the bowl of oatmeal he refuses to eat

Looks out the window and wrinkles up his forehead

"I see...pine trees?" he asks, unsure

Laughter finds me then

"Those are palm trees, buddy. You've never seen those before, have you?"

With my four kids who are still (barely) standing, all maximally medicated,

And hacking all the way we finally make the trek to the beach

Matt stays back with Naomi

The cousins run ahead

Through the tree-tunnel foot path

Up and down the reed speckled dunes

Warm white sand slips under my toes

Then everyone is running

Running down the last dune

To the enormous ocean

To the cold, windy waves

Broken sea shells under our feet

Still coughing, but we don't notice it much anymore

We made it

Hannah, Emma, Toby, Elijah, and their cousins

All jumping up and down in the cold, frothy surf

Seagulls overhead

Yelling out to me about how big the ocean is, and how loud

How the waves pull the sand out from under their feet as they slink back into the sea

Asking if they can feed the seagulls

Clambering for buckets and shovels and the right mixture of sand and water

Bringing piles of shells to me to keep for their collections

Trying to convince me that a swimsuit is all they need to wear

In the windy, cloudy, 65 degree weather when they are sick with influenza

They have forgotten they are sick

Toby reenacts Chariots of Fire

Running through the surf, loving our laughter all the way

Elijah is unsure of the waves so I coax him out there

And hold his tiny feet in the cold water while he screams "No! No!"

Half-from cold shock and half from excitement

In a minute he is jumping and splashing with all the rest

Screaming with joy as the waves come in and wash over his little knees

Clinging to my arms, trying to pull himself out of the water

Laughing at the futility

Laughing even more when a huge wave washes over both of us and soaks us waist down

We cuddle under towels and watch the blue and gray horizon

I see a dorsal fin not that far away

Almost can't believe it, thinking "shark"

But it jumps, bent gracefully, joined by others in front and behind

Dolphins!

I yell with my sore, broken voice over the pounding surf

Yell for the kids to look, dolphins!

For a minute there is a break in the jumping and screaming

While they all strain to make out the grey, jumping dolphins in the grey water

They see them. Just for a second, they see them with their own eyes

It is worth it all

Before long we need reprieve from the wind

We need food and medication and rest

Naomi needs me to check on her

But as soon as we can make it, we are back at the beach

Gathering sights and feelings,  glimpses and memories

Treasuring them up like little pearls of great price

So costly, still worth it

By the next morning, with Tamiflu and prayers, Naomi's fever has broken

But her cousin has fallen to fever and cough

"I'm so sorry, buddy" I say

"That's OK," he croaks with a smile

He spends his second beach morning at the island's urgent care

Naomi is weak, but I don't want her to rest, I want her to see the ocean

I bathe her, feed her, practically push her down the path

She has reluctantly agreed to go, saying she will rest on the beach

But the sea surf is magical

She too forgets her illness, rolls up her pants, and puts her feet in the salty, foamy waves

They are seeing the ocean, if just for an hour

Smelling it, touching it, feeling the wet grains pulled out from under their feet

Pelicans overhead today, gliding on the pounding wind

Suddenly diving into the water for fish

Naomi sees them, stands with her toes in the waves, and watches them

We are miserable, and happy

Wrapping towels and hoods over our sore ears

Coughing and coughing in the wind

Emma is determined to build a sand castle

Works diligently for an hour

Packing sand, placing sea shells

It is beautiful

Such a costly sand castle

We made it. It's worth it

Eventually they tire

The misery wins out over the joy

We trudge back over the dunes with heavy feet

Showers, laundry, dinner, meds, nebulizers

Packing up, hauling out

Brining with us those few precious pictures

Those few happy videos

Those costly memories

Running for home and safety and rest

One last night with the cousins

Followed by hours and hours back through the mountains and plains
Through the red-bud lined interstates and the bright green mountain pastures
Dotted with this year's new calves
Hours and hours of driving
Coughing
Calling out to the kids to savor that rose-pink sunset over the appalachian hills
They are too tired to savor anything any more
And then we are home
Home

But we made it

They saw it

Pray they hold those memories

Miles of grey waves against the cloudy sky

Tiny dolphins on the horizon

Pelicans diving

Cold foamy waves on the scratchy sand

Pray they hold them

Precious costly pearls

Safely wrapped their whole life through

We made it