Carkeek Park

As the tides are at their lowest, Seattle schools go on summer break. Kids flood the beaches searching for sea stars, lifting rocks to pester crabs, and poking at anemones. Moats get built, feet get sandy, hands smell like seaweed.

One of my hopes for our summer is weekly beach visits and hikes. The boys will pick Carkeek nearly every time if I let them and I find few reasons to negotiate. With a wide flat beach that looks out over Puget Sound to the Olympic Mountains, it is hard to beat. My boys adore watching trains from the bridge over the railroad tracks, and the salmon slide is irresistible to the younger crowd (also sure to elicit at least a few poop jokes from all kids five and up).

When we first moved back to Seattle, I experienced a solid six months of “pinch me” moments. I’d visit a favorite bakery and squeal with delight. I’d hop on a ferry like a kid in a candy store. While I remain thankful that we moved back, those highly salient moments of gratitude have tapered off. Mostly I feel deeply anchored, gently swaying in the comforting knowledge that we’re home. Yet Carkeek, especially when the sun is shining and the clams are spitting and the boys are happily digging, always seems to return me to a more conscious level of thankfulness for the city I love.

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