We enjoyed a chilly Mother's Day on the beach in Malibu, CA yesterday, with people huddled in their tents and blankets while my son and I built our sand castle and fortress. All of a sudden, everyone was up and running to the shoreline. pointing and yelling. I looked up and saw the dolphins, then the large shadow of a gray whale broke from beneath the water and "spyhopped" showing us her nose. They were all so close to shore, just beyond the breaking waves, that it only took a few moments for the crowd to begin murmuring their questions and concerns about the health and well being of the whale. And all of a sudden, there was not one, but two whale tails in the air almost simultaneously. Mother and calf, perhaps? We watched and waited; they seemed to be moving just fine when they wanted to, which put our minds at ease. They swam back and forth in the seaweed-heavy area for a half hour before moving north, rolling and diving, eating and playing. I alternated watching these majestic creatures while my son dashed among the shallow waves, and I felt that rare gift of being at one, not only with nature, but mothers of every kind.