I am one for the structure of bedtimes without fuss so children are well-rested for school. This day, though, after struggling through uninspiring monotony, I threw the rules out the door and, with them, my children carrying flip flops and flashlights.
Bioluminescence at the beach, the newspaper said. A mystery that the tides never pull to our Virginia coast. Some moments teach more than all the graphic organizers in the world. These flashes offer something stickily tangible.
We drove to the beach an hour past bedtime, and they stomped on glowing algae in the sand and chased ghost crabs with flashlights. The waves glowing electric blue, my photographs could never capture this brilliant luminosity, even with a long exposure, 60-second shutter speed.
Salt breeze sirens lulled us through the night and told us we were already home, but school was indeed happening again in the morning. Earlier than we wanted, we piled into the car with sandy feet and groggy eyes. And when it matters, I pray they’ll say, I remember when life shimmered in defiance of the night.