She climbs on the rocks on the other side of the beach, slightly more than a small dot of color when viewed with my glasses and invisible without. Every now and then, I raise the completely zoomed in camera to try to take a picture, and always, within a moment or two, she raises her arms in a victory sign.
She is my child who chafes at attention and notice, who wants a little more space and to be a little more grown up. But it is clear as she is climbing, that almost as much as I am watching her, she is looking across the beach at me.
When she reaches the top of the final outcropping she pauses again with arms outstretched, waiting for me to signal that I've gotten the picture. To some degree she is humoring me--I know this. But I hope that there more to it than that. I hope that she also feels this connection, that despite the distance between us, we savor her experience, together.
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