The picture prompts unanswered questions. Who was that woman? Was it a special trip––a farewell outing or a last hoorah? Was it the daughter's first time to the ocean? The mother's last? Did they live nearby, or did they come from far away to play on the beach?

"Look at that," I said to my wife as we sat in front of the Hotel Del Coronado. "That mom and her kid are perfectly framed by the sunset."
There are few sounds sweeter in life than the giddy laughter of a child. The splashing waves, cool against the evening air, tickled this girl to no end. Perhaps because it was Valentine's week, or perhaps because my wife and I are expecting our first child, but for whatever reason the scene of the mother dancing with her daughter in the ocean captivated us.

I snapped the photo, and Jodie made a suggestion. "You should almost, maybe, see if they want us to email them the picture."
The idea sounded silly, at first––after all, we were complete strangers. But then I thought, maybe if Jodie came with me so they saw I was married, and normal, we could introduce ourselves and explain how we happened to take the photo. Get her email address and send her the photo when I got back home. We hemmed and hawed, then decided we would try it. It could be a great keepsake for the mom, we reasoned; how often do you have a picture-perfect postcard capturing a magic moment of you and your child silhouetted against the sunset?
Before we approached the mother we watched the rest of the sunset and snapped a few photos of ourselves, one with the ocean as our backdrop and one with the hotel's signature panorama in the background. Satisfied with our photos, we then turned our attention back to the mother, only to find she had disappeared.
We looked around, confused and disappointed. It seemed we had only turned our back for a moment to snap a few pictures, but I guess we took too long. My ego in wanting the perfectly centered and staged photo of us, for some future picture frame, wasted the opportunity to give the mother a memento of this candid, joyful moment she had experienced with her daughter.
I regret not speaking with the mother. Kindness shared between strangers is one of travelling's unexpected joys. I had my chance, and I blew it. But it is my only regret from the Land of Oz.