A Moment at the Dock

I was walking toward the end of the dock when she ran up behind me and announced, with great pride, “I have sixteen boo-boos on my legs.” Before I could respond, the six-year-old launched herself off the dock, water wings and all, disappearing into the lake below.

I was far more cautious, easing myself down the ladder instead. Glacier-fed lakes are usually freezing, but that day the water was just cool enough to feel refreshing, not teeth-shattering.

The brown-haired little girl and her younger brother swam circles around me, their bright blue eyes framed by long, soaking-wet lashes. The older sister did all the talking, breathless and animated as she treaded water, while her brother nodded along solemnly, his wide grin never leaving his face. From her cheerful chatter, I gathered that her collection of boo-boos came mostly from mosquito bites, forest scrapes, and the inevitable tumbles of childhood.

They climbed the ladder one after the other, then leapt off together, landing beside me with a splash before popping back up, giggling. Their delight was infectious. I felt my own sense of joy rise to meet theirs.

Remembering That Kind of Joy

Being surrounded by them brought me back to summers of my own,  long days swimming in the Pacific Ocean with my older brother, building sandcastles on the shore, utterly absorbed. I remember the tickle of sand crab legs against my fingertips as I scooped up gritty handfuls of earth to add to my carefully constructed fortress, fully aware the sea would soon wash it all away.

That simple cycle of building and losing was entertainment enough for hours. It’s a particular genre of happiness, one that can be harder to access later in life, when responsibilities hum constantly in the background. The weight of adulthood doesn’t always make room for that kind of lightness, even when the opportunity is right in front of us.

Boo-Boos, Grown-Up Edition

The following day, as my husband and I walked down a bustling Seattle street, I was looking up, pointing something out in the distance, when the uneven pavement gave way beneath me. I tumbled forward, landing hard on both knees.

Just like that, I had two boo-boos of my own.

The Comfort We Return To – A Classic Chocolate Chip Recipe

No matter how young or old you are, there’s always a time and place for a hot, gooey, just-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie — ideally with a cold glass of milk nearby for dipping. Some comforts don’t need reinvention.

This is the classic chocolate chip cookie recipe I return to for exactly that reason. Not too flat, crisp around the edges, soft and tender in the center. As it bakes, the kitchen fills with the familiar smell of warm butter and melting chocolate,  the kind of scent that pulls you in without asking.

Maybe it’s the adult version of those dockside summers and scraped knees. A small pause in the day. A simple pleasure that asks nothing more than to be enjoyed while it’s still warm.

With that spirit in mind, here’s the chocolate chip cookie recipe I come back to again and again.