A few days ago I went to the beach with Baby J, just the two of us.
As it is my usual when I’m alone with her, there’s this ‘mother radar’ that gets turned on and I’m triple checking everything around us, the people, the moves. I scan everything in our surroundings to find a good spot to cross the street, seat, play. I know a bit about self defence and it begins, simply, with choosing your position wisely at all times.
So, we strategically sit down and start playing sand castles when I see these two women come out of nowhere – I immediately know they’re twins – walking towards us. I’m usually very chill, but there is something off about them that makes me nervous: they are wearing the most unusual clothes and a scary attitude.
They were both large women. One of them was blonde and was wearing a pink dressing gown, the kind that your button up in the front. The other one had red and green hair and was wearing an under shirt and panties. They walked towards us with a face that seems unreal in a beach setting, they looked inherently angry, like the sort of people that can go off at any moment and not know themselves why they went off.
I noticed that they were speaking English as the blonde one sat a few feet from us. Her sister ordered her up (this was no asking) and told her to “lets go because I say so”. They started walking back in the direction they just came from as my mind is reeling thinking about the very few reasons that could bring these two women to the beach in that attire.
They stopped in a sand spot where the one with the green and red hair ordered the blonde one to burry her feet in sand while she took photos with her cell phone. She was recording and taking photos with an iPhone and I was pouring sand into our castle bowl but I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. The men sitting in the park close to the beach arranged themselves so as to better see the butts of the twins, which were being displayed quite regularly.
Baby J stood up to go find a tool, she wanted to poke something and started grabbing tree branches. I said no to all the pieces she held because I thought, hysteric mom style, they could all be contaminated by bats or rats having fallen from the trees nearby. She ended up deciding she was going to use a former lollipop stick. I cringed about it but when I saw it up close, I noticed it was unusually white. Like, clean bright white. Baby J was very happy about the work it was doing and when a wave washed off some of our work of art, I calmed down finally remembering that the sea washes almost everything away.
Whatever is left at the shore gets completely soaked at night and the waves do a pretty good job of rubbing dirt off. Baby J’s lollipop stick was pretty much disinfected.
When I looked up the twins looked even weirder than before. Both had begun laughing and playing in the sand and with the waves. They kept running towards and away from each other, splashing and whooping. They looked almost happy, joyful. They certainly did not looked as terrifying as they did when they were serious.
There’s this thing about the sea; it washes almost everything away. Dirt, sadness and uncertainty. It will both rid you of all your filth – inside and out – and ground your thoughts, rooting them clearly up front as if they had never left you.
We all got a good scrub that day.