“The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart...”
Just before sunset on Long Island Sound we trekked a short distance to the family's small, private beach. In bare feet and sweatshirt, I scoured the water's edge, filling a small bucket with unique seashells and hermit crabs while my sister and brother-in-law sought smooth, flat stones for skipping.
Almost like a baseball pitcher on his mound, my brother-in-law turned the flat stone in his hand until the grip felt right. Then, with a low pull he swung his arm back and forward, releasing the weathered stone with precision across the Sound. Barely audible against the gentle surf, we watched each stone carefully counting the skips aloud, "One, two, three, four."
And then we waited for the rings to spread and dissipate from the epicenter of each skip.