Some days are just… perfect. You don’t plan for them, and you can’t recreate them. They sneak up on you and leave a permanent mark on your heart. July 14, 2025 was one of those days for me.
I was down in Myrtle Beach with my daughter and grandchildren, soaking up the summer sun and trying to press pause on the whirlwind pace of life. Myrtle Beach is no stranger to family memories for us. We've spent many a days in the RV at Lakewood and Ocean Lakes campgrounds ever since my kids were very young.
My youngest grandchild who is 4 had never quite warmed up to the ocean before. She’s been hesitant in the past. The roar of the waves, the endless water, even the shifting sand beneath her feet, it was enough to keep her from embracing the ocean.
This day or year is different. The waves were calm, perfect for a four year old and the water was so blue, felt like I was in the Caribbean. This time she was not afraid and after a few minutes she was enjoying splashing in the waves with her sisters.
We stayed in the water for five straight hours. We jumped so many waves. I should have put on more sunscreen, cause as I write this, I'm in pain. It was one of those magical afternoons where time slowed down. We weren't checking our phones. We weren’t rushing to the next activity. We were just there — completely present, completely alive, completely joyful.
I’ve had a lot of good days in my life, but this one — this simple, sun-soaked memory — etched itself into my soul in a way I didn’t expect. The light breeze and water kept the 90 degree temperature feeling comfortable and her laughter was the memory I'll remember.
There was so much fun watching her discover a new love for the ocean. I think part of it was seeing the world through her eyes. Children have a way of doing that — helping us remember what it’s like to be unburdened, uninhibited, and completely in the moment. She reminded me that joy isn’t always in the big things. Sometimes it’s just holding a little hand as the waves roll in.
And isn’t that the way life works? The best moments often aren’t the ones we plan. They’re the ones we stumble into when we least expect it — when the weather is just right, the company is just right, and something clicks in our hearts and tells us, this is a moment worth holding on to.
I don’t want to forget that day, which is why I've written about it.
I want to remember her laughter as the waves splashed over her. I want to remember the salt in the air, the sun on our faces, and the sound of her laughter echoing out into the wide open ocean.
More than anything, I want to remember how it felt — not just to watch her fall in love with the sea, but to feel like I was exactly where I was meant to be. Maybe because I grew up at the beach where that was the norm most summer days.
We all need days like that. Not every day will be filled with sunshine and crystal-clear water. Life has its storms. But every now and then, a day comes along that fills your cup so full, it spills over into the days ahead. July 14 was that kind of day.
And I’m grateful. Grateful for the ocean. Grateful for family. Grateful for the reminder that sometimes, the best thing you can do is slow down, splash a little, and be fully present in the gift of now.
If you’ve had a day like that, hold onto it. Revisit it when life gets noisy. And if you haven’t had one in a while, maybe it’s time to go find one. Because trust me — you’ll never regret the time spent jumping waves with someone you love.
—
Postscript:
Maybe one day she’ll read this when she’s older, and she won’t remember all the details. But I will. And I hope she always knows — July 14 was one of the best days of my life because of her.