I watched their play. The fourth generation summering on these shores. Rocks gathered on the beach to make driveways for Tonka trucks.
How could they know my brother and I did the same over 30 years ago? Toys and sand evoke fond memories. I smile.
Scampering over boulders, bare toes gripping stone, springing from one to another. Waves lapping, beckon them and off they run. Water splashes, glistening in the sun. Waves and wind drowning childhood laughter. I delight in their joy.
Games continue. Dolphins, mermaids, gymnasts, clowns, the children change places. Imaginations know no bounds.
Places seem ageless. We look at pictures later in the afternoon. The cottage, erected in 1937, vaguely looks familiar. Black and white photos of these shores, structure, and sand. I see my Great Grandma - one I've never met. I'm told the long-skirted ladies beside her are sisters. She had six, no one now knows who's who. I peer in their faces, part of my blood lineage and wonder about their lives.
My children marvel at the "olden days". We all study the clothes and cars of the time period.
My mom was once where I am now and she stood as her mom did before her. Perhaps my children will be where I am now. I do not know. We ponder, live, love, laugh, dream.
We're all just changing places.
"A generation goes and a generation comes, But the earth remains forever." Ecclesiastes 1:4