Time in a bottle.

The last few days were a blur, they truly were. This vacation – a two-week vacation, we’ve had those before – have taken us further than we have been before as a family. They grow, we push them, they want to stay young, but their imaginations are broader than ever before. They believe their tastes are simple, but they are sometimes unsatisfied with simple things.

Those films were deep and poignant. Just leaving the cove for a day seemed like growing up a little. My father’s 80^th birthday was another significant day. The older he gets … the older I get. The wife prompted me to say a few words before wine hour concluded and most of the guests departed. I praised him for giving me a love of Shakespeare and history, but someone had to remind me about the running. Ah yes, that certain way he inspired me to run.

He falls now. He takes the stairs with both feet. He does not walk very far. I run faster.

The last full day we had the annual treasure hunt. Last year should have been the last, at least for certain people. But letting go of childhood memories is so very hard. She says she was disappointed in the treasure, but I don’t think that was it. I think the memory of something joyful makes you want to do it again, and again. And then you’re twelve.

Part of the treasure, however, was a bottle and paper for a message to be cast in the sea. She has expressed an interest in this. She drew a color picture of the Barnstable and a note with contact information on it from the entire family. We corked the bottle, wrapping the end with duct tape.

The sun was beginning to set, the sky was blue with billowy clouds. She and I and the boy took the motorboat, speeding fast, out of the cove. The water was at first like glass, then a bit choppy as we headed out to sea. The true open sea would be miles away, but we headed out further than usual. My two children sitting in the bow, wind in their hair. Facing the open sea. I thought, perhaps this is a core memory.

The tide was high, and now heading out. When we were just past Cow Island, we decided we had gone far enough, and the boy tossed the bottle as far as he could. We did a pass-by, to see if it were going to float. She felt unsure about putting a piece of art at risk. But it seemed watertight. We’d discussed this. Maybe it would wreck, the bottle would break or take water and the picture would sink. Perhaps it would just come right back into our cove. Or just perhaps go somewhere else.

We returned to the cove. The light was perfect. My children are growing. Days like these happen only once. Once can be a lot.

Distance: 4 miles
Duration: 32:52
Avg Pace: 8:12
Route: Minuteman Bikeway

Yesterday we spent the day in Boston with Doppel-G, the evening at our friend's new home in Lexington. It's a lovely, old New England town. This morning the wife and I each ran the Minuteman Bikeway, easily accessible from behind their house and took me an easy two miles into the center of town and back again.

Home tomorrow evening.

Temperature: 66°
Climate: warm and not too humid
Intake: none
Hydration: yes
Water Stop: no
Stretches: yes