On the last day at the beach, we did it all.
We went on an excursion, got Duck Donuts, swam in the ocean and the pool. That night, we got pizza from our favorite place. We went digging for crabs. We took family pictures we had put off all week. We went out for ice cream. We played cards way too late (I won both times). We let our kids stay up too late.
Because the realization was that for all of the time we spent doing nothing, or playing Pokemon Go, or staring at Facebook feeds, our week was over for another year. And we wanted to soak in the remaining hours, and enjoy it as much as we could.
So we did. And we laughed, told stories, and acted like we didn’t have to leave (or get up early the next morning).
And as I crashed from a day spent riding waves too big for me, chasing kids in the surf, and looking for black bears and alligators (long story), I realized I want to live my life like it’s Friday night at the beach.
I want people to know they’re loved, and that where I am, there’s community.
I want people to see the best that life has to offer even if “when the game is over, it all goes back in the box.”
I want to soak up my time here, with the people God has given me to call my family (biologically and otherwise).
Because while a week at the beach may be short, life is short, too. So, I need to start living Sunday through Thursday like it’s Friday night.