How to Be Influenced by Real Love

They had an umbrella covering love and seemed to view us as if we were potential sweepstakes winners they could bestow the jackpot of joy upon.

Kicking sand up with my sweet little friend, Zane. Exhilaration fueling our skips over Lilliputian waves. Zane is just a couple of feet tall and holds my hand like it suppose to be parked in the middle of my palm. He is all smiles, me too. We come in for the home stretch, to our home base, our blue umbrella. His mamma is waiting with a towel and she rolls him up, this towel burrito of sweetness, this young boy is.

I felt them watching me before I see them. I am noticed and not sure why.

I am on a brief holiday, a visit to the sun. For many reasons I am filled to the brim already. I am with my favorite people, in the sun. My purposeful job fills me up. And I am in love. The scenery of my life is extraordinarily beautiful. All is good. Mostly. Not all, come on I am human. I have plenty to stress me out and keep my mind company at 3 in the am. I have worries. Being loved is not one of them.

Maybe this is why these focused in on me. I am hoping its because they felt kinship with me. What an honor that would be.

I plop myself down on my towel. I decide far too much sand has burrowed in my bikini bottoms so I stand up to shake the sand off and begin again, sans sand. That's when I notice them, see them seeing me, rather, in this shed the sand dance.

Underneath a clam bake from another era cheerful umbrella, they are holding hands regal on their matched fold out beach chairs thrones. Leaning slightly into one another. They reign with elegance. They are current with a little vintage essence in their dress. I want to plop down at their feet and hear their story and I want it to be my very own. They are lovely. I feel like they have made an appearance just for me, as self-centered that seems. They smile in synch. Time to bestow the wisdom of us they decide, on this one, the one will all the hope and dreamy eyes of new love, with the stockpile of sand in her pants.

Handsome couple. They share a blanket. Knees touching, too. I like that. All cozy and connected. I want to be like them. Content to sit holding hands with their beloved. These are the kind of folks I want to trade places with, fast-forward a few decades and just be. Does anyone else see them? Seems crazy they feel like they are from another era and transported here for me to see, a little portal of love I am now privy too since my heart filled up with love, too. I am invited into their club, I think.

How long have they loved and been immersed in one another? A lifetime? I am envious of that. I didn't get that with my person I chose to I Do with. Or maybe they met on a seniors dating AP. Maybe he went to war and he asked for her hand to be married before he left, to have a photo and a ring to keep him alive while bombs flew. I wish I had asked them, their story.

I do know the story goes happily ever after. I have hope I can be half of the merge of a poetry on the beach umbrella couple. Thank you for showing up at the most exquisitely appropriate time, I say to myself. I didn't know I wanted to be an umbrella couple. But I do. The sense of this magnificent possibility with another is sitting near to me. What could be more divine?

They could have met the summer of 62 or the winter of 44. I will never know. Either way they are intertwined like I long to be. I fantasize they own a small publishing house together and sip wicked strong pressed coffee at 6:00 a.m. and read their stories and the stories of others together while watching the sun rise. And then they pack the umbrella, picnic and blanket up and head for the beach. They are poetry on the beach. The seasoned love knows, that is all that truly matters.

May they and then we go forth into the world until the umbrella is ready to fold and make appearances on beaches spreading the word of love and bestow Influence by just being love. That is what I plan to do.

Thank you for selecting me to Influence on this dreamy day at the beach.