April, 2019 – The Edge Delights <\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s April and Edie is almost two years old. We\u2019re walking the beach with my parents and my son, Ro. Edie is sheltered in the stroller, sucking her thumb and complaining about being cold. As we walk and look for sea glass, she suddenly yells for me to stop. She clumsily climbs out of the stroller and walks back a few steps, looking, searching. Then she reaches down and pulls a big blue piece of sea glass out of the wet sand. It\u2019s a one-in-a-million find, and based on the look on her face, she knows it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n July, 2022 \u2013 The Edge Connects<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n I sit in the sand with a three-month-old magazine that I\u2019ve been bringing to the beach with me every afternoon with false hope that I might actually get to read it. My kids are building something in the sand at the edge of the water. Three women who live nearby are walking past me, on their way to the shore. They are all in their late eighties. They\u2019ve been coming here their entire lives. \u201cHello!\u201d \u201cGood morning!\u201d \u201cBeautiful day!\u201d they say. They ask me how the water is. They continue to the shore, chatting and stopping to ask the kids what they are building. The oldest woman carries a thermometer on a stretchy cord attached to her bathing suit strap. I admire their friendship and joy of life while I listen to them laughing and talking as they slowly wade out into the water for a swim. <\/p>\n\n\n\n May, 1992 \u2013 The Edge Is Curious<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n A dead whale washed up on the beach today. Of course, we had to go see it. It\u2019s a sperm whale and it\u2019s giant. I rub my hand along its mouth and wonder what\u2019s inside its belly. I try to climb on top of the whale but my mother tells me to get down. It\u2019s starting to rot and it smells. I imagine the other giant whales swimming off the shore where I usually swim and I wonder what else could be out there, living in the dark water. <\/p>\n\n\n\n October, 2015 \u2013 The Edge Soothes<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s fall and I am in my final months of maternity leave with our son, Ro. He\u2019s dressed in a blue fuzzy North Face suit and a hand-knit wool hat with a John Deer tractor crest on the front. Like most first-borns, he\u2019s very particular about his sleeping conditions, but he loves napping in the stroller as we walk along the shore. Every afternoon, we do this walk together. Once he falls asleep, I park the stroller near the edge, where the sound of waves keeps him asleep. I sit on the sand and think about how lucky we are to live here, how lucky he is to get to grow up with this place in his backyard. How I wish these next few months would last forever! <\/p>\n\n\n\n September, 1997 \u2013 The Edge is Powerful <\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s September and our final days at the cottage before moving back to town to start the school year \u2013 to daily routine, to life-as-usual. I\u2019m excited to get back to school to see everyone, but I\u2019m going to miss this place. It\u2019s windy, but I walk down to the beach anyway. I climb the highest dune and sit at the top, watching the big white waves roll in. The surf thunders when it hits shore. I see a giant wave approaching, twice as big as any wave before it, and I watch as it finally crests, crashing down onto the beach, almost reaching the base of the dune I\u2019m on. <\/p>\n\n\n\n May, 2020 \u2013 The Edge Is a Sanctuary<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n The whole world is in lockdown. I haven\u2019t even seen my parents, who live next door, in two months. The Covid-19 pandemic is all anyone talks about. The PEI National Park is open only to foot traffic, which means we have the entire beach to ourselves. Every afternoon, I walk down to the shore with the kids. We fly kites, flip over rocks, hunt for crabs, build forts, collect shells, and make pretend dams, castles, and canals. Every single day, regardless of the weather, we come here to escape \u2013 escape from the digital world that we\u2019ve been living in, escape from the uncertainty of when things will go back to normal. It\u2019s an escape to a place where life is simple and beautiful. <\/p>\n\n\n\n February, 2023 \u2013 The Edge is Home\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Edie pulls me back into the present. She\u2019s cold too and is ready to go home. As we leave the beach, I notice that near the cliffs, where the dunes used to be, are tiny sprouts of marram grass poking through the sand, so inconspicuous that I\u2019d walked right over them on my way to the shore. As I look closer, I can see that these sprouts have already begun collecting sand as it blows in the wind. I suddenly feel hopeful. If the marram grass holds, the dunes may someday return. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Photos from the edge:<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/projects.upei.ca\/mais\/files\/2023\/05\/image-31.png\")
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