The Atlantic Ocean Sparkles off the Coast of Little Compton, RI
A birthday to celebrate? The chronological number gave me pause. I caught myself shaking my head in disbelief. Many times. A weekend away to honor the “occasion.” My husband Jon and I headed to Newport, RI for a few days. Leaving the mountains for the ocean…
We stopped along the way just outside of Boston. A quick lunch with our daughter and granddaughter had been arranged. My heart filled as Belle ran to me. A long hug from my favorite toddler. Her head rested on my shoulder while her small young arms wrapped around my neck. A powerful expression of love as our hearts spoke to one another. Lunch was nearly as delightful as the company. She wished me a happy birthday as we made our leave…
A day trip To Little Compton would be a must. The first and only destination I really wanted. Needed. Just a half hour or so from Newport we arrived in Tiverton, RI last Friday. The village area is called Four Corners. A patisserie, a gallery or two, boutiques and homemade ice cream. Gray’s Ice Cream. My mother’s favorite ice cream from my childhood and her favorite flavor was still listed. Peach Brandy. Ice Cream we had but we passed on the Peach Brandy…
We wound our way from Tiverton to Little Compton. Traveling roads lined with stone walls. Perfect in their imperfection. Rambling across the rolling landscape. Marking boundaries. Property boarders. Mile after beautiful mile. Working farms that overlooked the ocean. The reoccurring gift of location. The properties grand in their antiquity. Life seemed much as it was when I was a young girl…
One wrong turn had brought us back in the direction of the center. I once knew the way to the beach without hesitation and while so much felt familiar I had erred. Quiet in my disappointment I thought it best to head back to Newport. Before we left the area, we decided to pop into one more local store before leaving this blissful place. I explained to the shop keeper about our misadventure. Engaged in my nostalgia she quickly found a map. With her black marker she charted our course. We were so close just one miscalculation…
A second try left us lucky. The beach small and rocky. Exactly as I remembered. My car door opened before we had fully stopped. I was eager to remember. The numerous rocks familiar. Challenging to navigate yet we made our way to a small swath of sand. A humbling view of the vast Atlantic Ocean. The water glistened. Clean and clear. Sparkling under a brilliant cobalt blue sky. Osprey overhead. I sat warmed by the May sun and my many memories. A place where I feel my mother’s presence. The many happy memories of perfect beach days with my childhood family. I nod my head this time as a smile stretches across my face…
I sat quietly. Breathing it all in. A few local voices eagerly chatted nearby. Their beach chairs tilted on the slant of rocks. The circumstance was usual. They were well practiced. Unphased and accepting. A new season was arriving. Two young boys desperate to go in the water. Long sleeve swim shirts and suits. The surf was gentle that day. I remembered being tossed and twirled while body surfing with my big brother so many years ago. We loved it. The salt water bubbled and trickled in toward their small feet. They stood with arms crossed. Contemplating their next move. Decisively they jumped back. Their want was strong but the water frigid…
“Here in New England, the character is strong and unshakable.” — Norman Rockwell
