Brianna Walker

Something about watching ocean waves makes one reflect on life — and the choices which have led you to the current moment. Big or little, momentous or inconsequential, every day is full of them, and we don’t always realize how far-reaching their consequences can be.

Sitting on four-wheelers watching the sun melt into liquid gold pouring onto the ocean waves, my husband and I watched our kids ride around on the beach and we reminisced about the choices that brought us here.

Twenty-odd years ago, friends of my parents were taking a vacation to the coast. They did the usual tourist things: played at the beach, browsed the shops and rode horses in the sand. Towards the end of their trip, they saw a sign for ATV rentals and, on a whim, stopped to ride on the dunes for a few hours — and loved it. A stone was thrown into the water.

The next year, they invited my parents to go along. We went, taking our utility four-wheelers to ride. We pitched tents beside their motor home — not that we stayed in camp much. We spent nearly every waking hour riding the dunes. It was some of the most fun we’d had on a family trip. The next year, a few more people were invited, and some of the four-wheelers were upgraded. The stone was sending out ripples.

My husband and I got married, and now two sides of grandparents began coming. The four-wheelers got sportier. Winches and four-wheel-drive were replaced by light bars and sand paddles. Tents were traded in for toy-haulers. More of us got married. Now there were spouses, and soon kids coming along. Youth four-wheelers and side-by-sides were added to the mix. The ripples were spreading.

I look forward to this trip all summer, and this year didn’t disappoint. It fell a little earlier in the year, which had us hustling to get hay up and melons to market before we could leave. Most of the group had been there for three days before we pulled out of the driveway at 10 p.m. for the 9-hour drive. We spent most of my birthday driving and setting up camp. But the next morning, two friends made coffee with whipped cream and sprinkles and lit a candle in coffee cake to celebrate. It was a great day. The sun was shining, the weather was amazing, and the rides were just like I remembered from last year — maybe better. My youngest was able to do the trails this year, which made our rides quite enjoyable. We rode and ate. Rode and slept. And rode some more. The camp was filled with toy-haulers, campers, all manner of motorized “toys” and riders in various forms of the aforementioned stages: eating, sleeping or gearing up to ride.

Riding out on the beach one afternoon, we came upon a dead whale. It didn’t smell great, but that didn’t deter us from wandering around the massive creature. It appeared to only be the back half: exposed, massive ribs with what looked to be a seal inside and a huge, lifeless tail flipper. We got back on our four-wheelers and rode a little ways upwind. But I kept looking back at the whale. What kinds of stories could he have told? What sights had he seen? Where had his life journey taken him? As we watched the tide roll in, the water washed over and around the whale. Quickly, our footprints were erased without a trace. In five minutes, no one would have known we had been there. Soon, I’m sure, the tide will erase all trace of the whale himself as he washes back into the sea.

Every day we make choices. Not just good or bad choices, but choices on things that don’t seem to matter — but perhaps they will in ways we can’t imagine. Twenty-odd years ago, a seemingly inconsequential choice of renting ATVs has resulted in an annual trip that has us wearing matching shirts and using up many vacation days — creating memories we will treasure for a lifetime.

So what makes some decisions like footprints in the sand — momentary outcomes that quickly fade and are lost forever into the sand of life — while other choices are like stones thrown in a lake, rippling out for generations? I watch the waves for answers. All I see is a group of seals pop up in the surf, barking and splashing. The kids point and laugh as we watch those four seals slap the water and bob up and down. I don’t know what makes the difference, but as you travel life’s game of choices with me, may all your bad decisions be like footprints in a rising tide — and may all your good choices ripple like a rock tossed into a still lake.