Beach Walk at Linclon Park

Tyjah holds his breath as we enter the second of two tunnels on our way to West Seattle. We barely make it to the end before his eyes widen and he starts slapping at his knees.

 "Pwhooooooh!"

"I totally could have held my breath for longer! It's just that my cheeks burst!"

On the other side of the tunnel are tall buildings. Bridges winding in an out of each other as I-90 ends its cross-continental adventure just before dumping into Puget Sound. And sunshine. Glorious, abundant sunshine.

There is never a happier people than Seattleites in the summer, when nine months of oppressing drizzle quickly evaporates in the much-anticipated sunlight.

Time for a beach walk at Lincoln Park. 

The cool breeze skims over the Puget Sound and weaves its way through the magic of my children's discoveries.

They poke at a dead jellyfish.

Sophia combs her hands through complex tangles of various sea weeds.

And Tyjah scans the horizon for the biggest waves, running to where he thinks they will crash the hardest.

As the waves roll back out they carry with them the clamor of deadlines and impending obligations that crowd my mind until my thoughts are clear. Free. 

 Leaving me to indulge in my children's exploration and laughter. I am enamored, smitten.

I can't help but notice how the sunlight shimmering on the water seems to reflect all that is pure and innocent about childhood. 

For these few hours everything is beautiful. Powerful. 

And absolutely clear.

Finally we are left with only a few minutes more to wade in the cool water before heading home. 

...but not without one last photo with all the kids.

Wait. I can't see Halle's face. Let's try again.

Oh, yes.

Beautiful. Powerful.

 And absolutely clear.