Sometimes you plan your beach days- bags packed, umbrella stuck deep down in the sand, swimsuits and sunscreen layered on. Other days you spontaneously pull your car off to the side of the road, strip off your shoes and socks, and sigh your best “oh well” at not having any change of clothes packed.

You wander right up to the window of the nearest beach house and order fish tacos and french fries, and share them on a picnic table outside as the wind assembles you a ragged updo. You pay your tab with crumpled dollar bills that you stuffed in your pockets upon leaving the house “just in case.” And then- perhaps the best part of all- you rush out to meet the waves and walk the beach with the love of your life and a little one who insists she is Moana.

I’m still figuring out how to do life somewhere between these sunscreen lathered and wind-styled extremes…the planned and the purposeful versus the spontaneous and simple joy-soaked. I can’t believe how many times I’ve stressed over the silly things. And recently I’ve even shrugged my shoulders at a few of the serious things and learned that wasn’t so great to do either. I don’t know if there’s ever a day that the balance just kind of clicks, or if the balance is actually the day by day self-corrects.

All I know is that I want to savor it all.