At the shore he is shirtless and wild. He makes “snow bunnies” from wet sand stacked up in his hand. He screams and jumps and throws the lumps of mud into the sea just to see what they do. Watching the water wedge the sand between his toes and then suck it out again to sea—he knows not a self-conscious thought in his world.
At the tide pools he climbs and clambers. He pokes at things both slimy and grimy, shouting “Sea creature!” each time he spies features that he’s not yet seen. I look and he is calf-deep in a pool of cool water. His movements are making the sea grass wave, and his eyes shine brave.
The ripples calm to reflect his own wonder right back at him. And he pauses. I wonder what the cause is. His life is a discovery, and for me a recovery of discovery— of the wonder around us, a search for the wonder that abounds in us. An awe for the wonder of One who spun wonder into being.
So as he stands still, sparkling light from the skies glances off the surface and shines in his eyes. Light mingles with the mind behind them to become surprise and delight erupting in bright laughter, like light turned to sound— for everyone around— sparkling laughter.