Narrator: Oishi (as if it would be anyone else)
It was a Sunday morning — but not just any Sunday.
Susan and I woke up unusually early and started bouncing on the bed. She was already in her green bathing suit.
(My eye twitched. I considered pretending to be blind. But I let it slide. I was excited too.)
For weeks now, our neighbors had been planning a neighborhood outing. Post-dinner meetings, heated debates about who brings the rice cooker, and of course, the classic standoff over who would drive. Everyone wanted to be on the trip, not responsible for it.
So they voted.
And the unlucky winner?
Boyo. Yes — that Boyo. The guy who once blasted “Bed of Roses” on repeat until even the cats started howling.
Susan and I were packing. She handed me my goggles, and for a moment — I felt something.
(Not quite a heart flutter. Let’s call it… elevated awareness.)
The thought of the beach — the breeze, the barbecue, the possibility of new hoomans who weren’t from The Signal Co. — it thrilled me. I even wagged.
The van ride was chaos and joy. Singing, laughing, someone choking on chips. Susan was screeching “Apt! Apt! Apt!” from that Bruno Mars/Rose collab like she was auditioning for the role of “Off-Key Hype Woman.” No one minded. We were all just… in it. Present.
When we arrived, we stepped out and took it all in. The salty air. The breeze. The mountains folding into the sea.
It was perfect.
Neighbors got to work — grill stations, beach mats, someone trying to build a tent they clearly never read the manual for.
Susan peeled off her cover-up, scooped me up like the emotional support king I am, and together we sat by the waves.
We played fetch. We ate like we hadn’t seen food in years.
We talked. We laughed.
And for once, she didn’t complain about work, or traffic, or slow Wi-Fi. She just smiled.
As the sun dipped low, we sat quietly on the sand, wrapped in the afterglow of joy and grilled meat.
And then — she said it.
“God must have a beautiful imagination. Look at this view. It’s perfect. What a Creator.”
I was stunned.
Usually, she reserves her poetic moments for when she’s holding a donut in one hand and ranting in the other.
But this?
This was awe.
✍️ Writer’s Note:
I stumbled upon this line today:
“Worshipping God means acknowledging and celebrating His power and perfection in gratitude.”And maybe… that’s exactly what this moment was.
No music. No altar.
Just Susan and Oishi, sitting by the sea —
surrounded by mountains, waves, and the quiet company of God’s imagination.“What a Creator.”
“Look at all this.”Sometimes worship is loud.
Sometimes it’s a soft whisper wrapped in awe.This is worship, too.
—From the heart of Susan & Oishi 🐾
Ember - Fire and Soul 