He stepped onto the beach. The sand spilled into his shoe from the back. He HATES when that happens. No need to show it, though. Best to press on. He felt a few sharp pokes on his thigh. The beach grass stabbing his leg was an all too familiar feeling. There will be little red blood speckles on the inside of his light jeans from where it jumped up and bit him.
He gripped his phone tightly. Remembering what happened last time. SPLASH! He dropped it right in the little creek flowing from the small gorse lined town. Luckily, he had cat-like reflexes and grabbed his phone from the water quickly enough that there wasn't any damage. Just a slightly wet phone.
He then turned to the young boy, who was beginning to trail behind, "You comin'?" he asked jokingly.
"Yeah. Chill out dad," he replied.
The two plopped down on a giant tree trunk, about 20 feet long and 3-4 feet thick, that the ocean clumsily, yet somehow still gracefully, tossed onto the upper side of the beach during high tide a few weeks back. It had become their favorite spot to watch the sunset over the water.
"Dad" his son wasted no time getting into the weeds on life's intricacies, "what did you want to be when you grew up when you were my age?"
"Well, while that may sound like an easy question to answer, the list is quite long, and I'm not quite sure you're ready for the answer," he said while trying to hide a little smirk. All the while, knowing full well he was going to overshare by launching into one of his favorite "dad advice moments" and, without question, was going to try to stretch and savor every last second of it.
"Dad!" he yelled, painfully, "I know what you're doing! Just give me the intel, man!" knowing this game, but still allowing himself to fall into his father's dumb bit. It had become an overplayed inside joke between the two of them. It's a long story. For another time.
"Okay, okay." he started, "First, I wanted to be a chef. I loved baking pies and looking through recipes with your grandma when I was about your age. My favorite thing to do was to bake a giant three-layered cake that looked like a hamburger."
He continued, "Then, I wanted to be a singer. I joined a bunch of choirs, practiced hard, tried out and made it into some select choirs from around the area. I even sang in the barbershop choir in college for fun."
"Then I wanted to be a musician. A friend and I put up a flyer at a local music shop. We found some new friends and started a band! We toured the country playing houses, hole-in-the-wall venues and crashing on couches. We had a small local following and even got signed to a small, local label."
"After that, I wanted to be a web and graphic designer. Making the world around me a more beautiful place and help to communicate a simple message."
"Then I wanted to be a photographer, videographer and video editor. As a high-school student, I made small movies with friends, edited together clips for class, and even made some skits with my best friends. I'm not sure where those ended up."
"Finally, I was in college, something clicked. I asked myself how could I get paid to do all of these things at once? So, I started researching local internships and making websites for anyone who would let me. Now, that's how I can pay to feed you! Well, I guess I barely can afford to feed you. You're eating us out of house and home."
"Whatever," his son responded, unimpressed as usual, to another one of his comedy routine "greatest hits."
There was a long silence. The ocean churned as they both marveled in wonder at its graceful power, deep in thought. They were both thinking about the list of unending life choices in front of his son.
"Can I tell you a secret?" He interrupted the ocean's consistent pitch-perfect song. He let the question hang for a moment only half expecting an answer.
"What?" his son replied impatiently.
"You know what job is cooler than all that stuff?" He asked looking for an interested look on his son's face.
"None of it comes close to being your dad. Being right here, right now, with you... here at the edge of the country, talking about life. There is no better job that I can think of."
The waves continued another verse. His son didn't respond initially. After what felt like hours but was probably more like a good forty-five seconds, his son froze with a "deep-in-thought" full body pose. He was obviously thinking about his next words very carefully. His son knew that his father was now expecting him to spill his most profound thoughts about his future all over the beach, just as he had.
Then he finally spoke, "Being a musician sounds way easier than all that other stuff."
-Future conversation with my year and a half old son
