Some childhood memories fade until only a few scattered pieces remain. Others stay with us for reasons we don’t fully understand until much later in life.
One of my earliest 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. I don’t remember 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. More than that, I remember how safe I felt. 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
Dad led me across a highway toward the sand on the other side. Somewhere beyond that road and those dunes was something I had never seen before.
The hard ground beneath our feet soon gave way to very fine beach sand. It shifted with every step, making my little legs work harder to keep up with Dad’s longer stride.
We continued through the dunes. I remember small plants growing out of the sand along the way. It seems like such an insignificant detail, yet it has remained in my memory all these years—the dunes, those little plants, the fine grains beneath my feet, and Dad beside me leading the way.
I still couldn’t see the ocean. Being so young, I don’t think I understood what I was about to see.
I just followed Dad.
Over the Last Dune
Eventually, we reached the last dune and climbed to the top.
Then I saw it.
The ocean stretched out before me, deep blue and seemingly endless. It reached as far as I could see in every direction. I had never seen anything remotely that large, and my young mind couldn’t understand how something could simply continue beyond the horizon.
I only knew it was enormous—and beautiful.
I stood there completely overwhelmed. My heart fluttered with excitement. Then I did what children naturally do when they discover something wonderful: I looked toward the person with whom I most wanted to share it.
I looked up at my father and said, “Dad, it’s beautiful.”
The Memory That Stayed
Dad probably had no idea he was giving me a memory I would carry for the rest of my life. To him, it may have been nothing more than a morning when he took his little boy to the beach.
I don’t remember what we did after reaching the ocean. I don’t remember what we ate, how long we stayed, or the ride home.
But I remember crossing that highway with Dad.
I remember the fine sand and the little plants growing in the dunes. I remember reaching the top and seeing that endless blue water for the first time.
Most of all, I remember my father’s hand around mine.
As a child, I didn’t understand why that mattered.
I understand it now.
What the Memory Was Really About
There is a wonderful time in a child’s life when his father seems bigger than anything the world can place in front of him.
You don’t think about danger or uncertainty. You don’t wonder whether Dad knows where he is going. You simply follow him because he is Dad.
That’s what I was doing that morning.
I didn’t know what waited 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 all right.
For years, I thought this memory stayed with me because it was the first time I saw the ocean. That was certainly part of it. I will never forget coming over that dune and seeing all that beautiful blue water stretching toward the horizon.
But as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that the ocean wasn’t the most important part of the memory.
My father was.
Dad took me there. His was the hand I held while we crossed the road. He stayed beside me as my little feet struggled 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 on the dune. I can see the sand, the small plants, and the endless blue water.
But more than anything, I can still feel 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.
