At least that's what I was planning to write about, since I took myself down to Bayshore to run along the water after I dropped off Little Bit at school this morning. It was a horrible dropoff, and I was sad and lonely and dare I say it - missed him to pieces, even though I've had no time to myself for a couple of weeks. I was already dressed to run SOMEWHERE, why not somewhere with a nice view before it gets too hot, right? Anyway, I was cruising along (realizing, may I add, that somehow I've gotten faster since the half), imagining myself running through Center City on a chilly November morning, and here's where the blog's going off track....
There were more people than I expected out running/walking/insert forward-moving activity here this morning. They were all carrying on with their forward motion as I checked off the "out" part of the 4.10 mile out & back, just as expected. Not so much on the way back. Why is everyone hanging on the seawall? Did the House That Jeter Is Building suddenly erupt in flames? Even the dogs seem enraptured, and someone has a videocamera. Um, it's Bayshore, and you can't see Jeter's house from here, only the cranes. What in the world?
Wait a minute. I see it.
I see THEM.
The dolphins, I mean. 4, no, 5 of them. A mommy and her baby (cue the tears, because MY baby is at school right now). Go ahead and assume I've now pulled over to the seawall myself to stand and smile and lose track of time watching these gorgeous creatures. Each of them easily came within 50 feet of the seawall, giving us a beautiful glimpse of what it's like to be so agile and so carefree. Fin after fin emerged from the water. Mother and child stayed within a flipper's length of one another as they played and danced for us. I'd never say I'm religious, but I have no problem sharing that moments like this reaffirm my faith in God, or at the very least in something far, far greater than myself. Watching the little family brought up the same protective feelings I feel for my own family because I so strongly identify with that dolphin mama. One day, the baby dolphin will be an adult and will venture far, far further than just that flipper's length away. My baby will do the same. His mommy will accept it as part of life, as must I.
All mistiness aside, it was a beautiful moment that brought me back to my place here among the community of mothers, of mothers of sons, of mothers who run. I gathered strength and turned to finish the mile or so that would get me back to my car, and back to reality. And here I am. Still Philadelphia dreamin', though.
Dream big. It's a new year - you've got nothing to lose.