Atop the Boardwalk

Returning to the Jones Beach boardwalk.

It's not quite the season yet, so there was only a smattering of folks by the time we arrived at our usual beach for the first time this year to walk with Papa Rooster's brothers, who are in town visiting him.

The uncles arrived yesterday, and there was a mad scramble to whip the Mothership into some semblance of host-worthy state (ship shape was a forgone aspiration). At my BigFin employer, the five-day return to office policy has become effective, but with exceptions previously granted for work from home up to one day also left unchanged. So I logged in from the Mothership for business hours, but was able to help the sibs with the last push for a good six hours after that. We wrapped up just in time for their slightly flight delayed late evening arrival.

Back at Jones Beach, there is much construction underway to restore the Art Deco structures and add facilities, closing off certain portions of the boardwalk since last year.

We walked as the sun began to set and the moon began to rise, witnessing both at the same time. Those astronomical bodies seemed to mirror the arc of Papa Rooster and Mama Hen, with the closing of the days they could drive there together on a whim independently, and the rise of reliance on their baby chicks for transportation and mechanical aids for mobility, as they both pushed walkers over those planks for the first time - Papa on account of the stroke, Mama finally being forced to acknowledge that her knee has rendered her less able to walk than she generally cares to admit. 

Experiencing the boardwalk we've enjoyed for decades in that way was as stark a change as the construction-altered path we traversed.

Both uncles, though, seemed happily surprised that Papa is in a much better state than they had thought. So there is that.