My older son is a water child. Before he was two, we took him to Lake Tahoe, and without much warning, he ran into the frigid water up to his neck. He went no further, but we dashed in, catching our breaths, watching him. He just smiled. We stayed at that lake front beach for hours.
He swam on the swim team, he played water polo, he was a lifeguard. Even now, he can jump in the water and swim forever.
When my younger son was little, he loved the earth, the dirt, the stuff of and on the ground, the matter that could get muddy and wet and sticky. Once when he was less than two, I looked out the window to the back yard to see him in a mud whole, covered in mud, drinking from his bottle. The only thing flesh of fabric colored about him were his face, hands, and shoes. the rest? Mud.
He would roll in the sand to the water, ending up at the water's edge covered in seaweed. Later, when he was older, I had no trouble asking him to dig holes so that I could plant trees. He'd be outside before I could tell him more, moving the soil.
I'm a combination of dirt and water lover, though if I had to pick, I'd take dirt. Dirt is always there. Dirt gives me so much to do and think about. Dirt stays put a bit more than water and it smells and feels good. Dirt grows things and did, despite earthquake, is solid. Dirt warms up to the sun. Once as an exhausted new mother, I remember walking out to the backyard and laying down on the soft, smooth dirt in a sun patch. After a few minutes, I felt much better and could go back inside to do what I had to do.
Dirt is there, even when much else is not. The first house my then husband and I owned was one tenth the size of the yard, and we all lived as much as we could on the dirt, out in the open, able to move.
Dirt provides, though you can't neglect dirt. You have to tend to it, add to it if you start taking too much.
While I don't want to roll around in the mud and glop as my younger son did. But I always understand the impulse. Dirt is safe. Dirt takes you back to the beginning, essential elements. Dirt is willing to hold us, as long as we respect and take care of it. Dirt is our first mother, and dirt will stay our friend.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org