Some childhood memories fade until only little pieces remain. Others stay with us for reasons we may not fully understand until much later in life. One of my earliest and most treasured memories is of being a very little boy, walking beside my dad while holding his hand. He was taking me to see the ocean for the first time.
I don’t remember exactly how old I was, what either of us was wearing, or much about what happened before or after that morning. But I remember Dad’s hand. I remember how soft it felt wrapped around my little hand, and I remember the feeling that came with it. I felt perfectly safe and protected. At that age, I didn’t need to know where we were going or what was waiting for us. Dad knew where he was going, and I was holding his hand. That was enough.
Just Follow Dad
I remember Dad leading me across a highway toward the sand on the other side. It was morning, and somewhere beyond that road and those dunes was something I had never seen before. We crossed together, and before long the hard ground beneath our feet gave way to very fine beach sand. It was the kind of sand that shifts and gives beneath every step, making a little boy work just a bit harder to keep up with his father’s longer stride.
We continued forward through the dunes, and I remember seeing small plants growing out of the sand along the way. It’s funny that such an insignificant detail has remained in my memory all these years, but it has. There were the dunes, those little plants, the fine grains of sand beneath my feet, and Dad beside me leading the way. I still couldn’t see the ocean, and being so young, I don’t think I had any real understanding of what I was about to see.
Over the Last Dune
Eventually we reached the last dune and made our way to the top. When we crested it, I saw the ocean for the first time in my life.
There in front of me was this beautiful, deep blue body of water that seemed to have no end. It stretched as far as I could see straight ahead and as far as I could see from side to side. I had never seen anything remotely that large. As a little boy, I couldn’t possibly understand how something could just keep going beyond the horizon. I only knew that it was enormous and unlike anything I had ever seen before.
I remember standing there looking at it, completely overwhelmed by its beauty. My heart actually fluttered with excitement. Then I did what little children so naturally do when they discover something wonderful—I looked up at the person I wanted to share it with.
I looked at my dad and said, “Dad, it’s beautiful.”
The Memory That Stayed
Dad probably had no idea that he was giving me a memory I would carry for the rest of my life. To him, it may simply have been a morning when he took his little boy to the beach. But somehow my mind held onto that walk with extraordinary clarity.
I don’t remember what we did after we reached the ocean. I don’t remember what we ate that day or how long we stayed. I don’t remember the ride home. But I remember crossing that highway with Dad. I remember walking through the fine sand. I remember the little plants growing in the dunes. I remember reaching the top and seeing that endless blue water for the first time. And perhaps more than anything else, I remember the feeling of my father’s hand around mine.
As a child, I didn’t understand why that mattered. I understand it now.
When Dad’s Hand Was All I Needed
There is a wonderful time in a child’s life when his father seems bigger than just about anything the world can put in front of him. You don’t think about danger or uncertainty. You don’t wonder whether Dad knows where he’s going. You simply follow him because he’s Dad.
That’s what I was doing that morning. I didn’t know what was waiting beyond those dunes, and I didn’t need to know. Dad was leading me there. My hand was in his, and in my little world, that meant everything was going to be okay.
As children, we have no idea how precious those moments will someday become. We don’t think about our parents growing older. We don’t imagine ourselves becoming adults and looking backward across decades of our own lives. A little boy doesn’t know that one ordinary morning with his father might become something he will still remember when his own hair has turned gray.
He just holds Dad’s hand and keeps walking.
What I See Differently Now
For years, I suppose I thought I remembered that morning because it was the first time I saw the ocean. And certainly that was part of it. I will never forget coming over that dune and seeing all that beautiful blue water stretching out before me.
But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand that the ocean wasn’t really the most important part of the memory.
My father was.
Dad was the one who took me there. His was the hand I was holding while we crossed the road. He was beside me as my little feet worked their way through the sand. He led me over those dunes, and when I finally saw something so beautiful that I could hardly contain myself, he was the person I immediately looked toward.
“Dad, it’s beautiful.”
All these years later, I can still see that little boy standing there. I can see the sand and the dunes and that endless blue ocean stretching to the horizon. But more than anything, I can still remember the feeling of my little hand inside my father’s.
I thought Dad was taking me to see the ocean that morning. I had no way of knowing that he was also giving me one of the most beautiful memories of my life.
And after all these years, when I think back to the first time I saw the ocean, that’s what I remember most.
Dad was holding my hand.
