Little Swimmers, Big Fear

My kids love the water. I call them my "little turtles" since they see water and head straight for it. Both of them are called to it. When Rico was 1 we went on our first North Carolina family vacation. The waves were crashing on the beach and as we walked down to the shore I expected the worst, a child screaming in fear because of the crashing waves and endless ocean. I was mentally preparing how to comfort my toddler. We all walked out together and while I stopped where the dry sand met the wet, my son kept walking. He walked right up to where the water met the sand and kept right on. I held his hand and I felt his little fingers pull me towards the waves. Apparently, he did not inherit my fear of the ocean.

Unlike my children, I fear the ocean. I don't like getting in past my calves-when I'm feeling brave-I usually just go in to my ankles. My grandmother, on the other hand, must have passed down her ocean swimmer gene. When I was a child I traveled with my grandparents. Every year we went to South Padre Island-sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and other extended family would meet us there and it was always fun. Being as close to I am to my grandparents, of course most of my memories revolve around them. My two most memorable memories (is that proper wording?) is of my Grandpa Sanchez wearing shorts-which he NEVER wore-and of my Grandma swimming in the ocean. As soon as we got to the beach she would go to the shore to "greet" the ocean. This is something she would do even when we'd go to the island in the middle of winter for dinner. While all the kids were in the sand playing, my Grandmother would swim into the waves and go past the sandbars. She would float out there and swim into the distance. I remember being scared for her. She never was but I was.

Although my Grandmother no longer greets the ocean, my kids do it for her.