Time Flies
Tinkling laughter floats through the air, making Skye turn her head towards the source of it.
"You are crazy."
"I can do this."
"Doesn't change the fact."
"Just don't let me fall back."
"You are lucky I love you."
"Love ya right back, little sis."
Skye just shakes her head at the antics of her daughters, smiling, but doesn't say a word; she just lets the scene unfold.
The girls are about thirty feet from her, messing around on the sandy beach; both of them are wearing light, summer clothes – Haylie is down to her bikini, Ada has pulled over a loose sundress over hers. Their long hair is flowing freely, a little ruffled, matted in some places because of the salt. Their skin is sun-kissed, and they are laughing, happy, carefree.
Ada is sitting in the sand cross-legged, looking up at her sister with an expectant smile. Haylie is standing, facing her; she takes a couple of steps back to get to the proper distance from Ada, then raises her arms to the air and draws a leg up to gain momentum. The next moment she is throwing herself forward gracefully, hands in the sand and feet in the air. There's an uncertain moment when she reaches vertical position when Skye's afraid for a fraction of a second that she'll tip over and fall, but in the end Haylie manages to stay erect.
Skye chuckles, hiding her mouth behind her hand as a wave of nostalgia hits her.
She remembers the first time they brought Haylie to the beach – she was just learning to walk, and she gripped Grant's hands as they stood at the edge of the water, letting the waves wash their feet. She loved it so much, shrieking with delight whenever the water touched her.
It seems almost impossible how much time has passed ever since – Haylie's just turned seventeen (her once tiny baby is now a good four inches taller than her), and Ada is going to be fifteen this fall. They are their own persons, beautiful and kind and smart. Haylie, her fast-thinking hothead, who just doesn't get the concept of "no" and "impossible." And Ada, gentle little Ada, always calm and considerate, sometimes sitting at the piano for hours.
After keeping in position for a couple of seconds, Haylie is slowly letting herself back to the ground, letting her legs fall back, her back arching into a perfect bridge. Ada watches her with an amused smile on her face, reaching out to grab the foot coming down first, and helping it slowly to the ground. Once all limbs in the sand, she stops for a moment once again, then takes a deep breath and flexes her abdominal muscles. Skye holds her breathe as Haylie slowly raises her hands from the ground, standing up – it's not as graceful as it could be, but it still is a nice accomplishment.
It takes Haylie a couple of seconds to finish the form and stand up straight, albeit in a little uncertain fashion, almost losing her footing. But when she is done with it, she grins triumphantly, then gives Ada a little bow, who awards the stunt with a grin and a little clap.
The next moment Haylie smirks mischievously, then throws herself to her sister's neck, tackling her to the ground. Skye sees her second born's face the moment before the attack happens – Ada realizes what's about to happen, but has absolutely no time to escape. The scene unfolding in front of her, the two girls rolling around in the sand, then running into the water, splashing at each other, makes her laugh out loud.
"What have I missed?" Grant asks, sitting down next to her on the blanket.
"Nothing of importance," she tells him, leaning against his side. "Just our daughters being themselves."
She can almost physically feel the pride radiating from her husband as he looks at the girls.
"We did good with them," he says, just as much to himself as to her. "Raised them well, right?"
She presses a kiss against his cheek.
"That we did," she says in the same moment as one of the girls call for the distance, tone clearly seeking for justice made, "Da-ad!"