Save for our sorry sand box, which now has no sand in it, but occasionally collects enough water for the dog to take a sip…
Our kids have never seen sand up close.
The real stuff. The ocean kind.
The kind you want to hug as soon as you step onto it.
And toss into the wind.
The kind that makes you happy.
For no reason at all.
The truth is…we were all due for the beach.
Which was how we ended up driving west toward the Pacific on a Friday that promised heat.
And it was hot.
Everywhere else, that is, but on that beach.
Only,when you’ve spent a decade beach-less, sixty-one degrees seems suddenly superfluous.
That, and a bunch of wind.
So as the fog crouched and clung and covered the waves, these two cradled and carved the sand.
Until the water called.
And the waves licked their heels
And they danced to the rhythm of the tide.
Where had this place been their whole life?
As the wind blew the surface of the sand away, others abandoned the beach.
They snapped their chairs together and tucked their heads down as they walked.
But not us.
We had sandy sandwiches to eat.
Sand to get out of our pants.
And sand to hoard.
We had a few more moments to just be…
Without work. Or worry. Or whatever else.
We had a few more foot prints to stamp.