There’s a narrow breath of calm between a wave’s ebb and flow; a brief opportunity to catch your balance or grab at drifting bikini ties. It’s about the same length of time we’re told to travel with a child – just a few quick years between difficult baby and more difficult adolescent.
“Now is perfect,” Hadyn and I reasoned. An 18-month-old fit within that slim but respectable traveling time frame. The distance between Queenstown, New Zealand and Santa Monica, U.S.A. might be a billion waves. But to my daughter, who shrieks “I’m a flying fish” as Dad holds her aloft, jumping is the best part.
May tiny passages merely encourage us to venture through. . .
(Brought to you by Weekly Photo Challenge).