It’s that day that I’ve been waiting for since January 1, 2017. My first beach day. Now it’s time to pack all of my most important stuff and I’ve got it all, sandwiches, sunscreen, beach chair, watermelon, drinks, and of course, peanuts in the shell, and not leftovers from baseball season. A brand new bag, ’cause that’s how I roll.
But my most important cargo is my two youngest Grandy Girls, now each ten years old. It won’t be long before they won’t wanna be on the beach with me, so I’m loving every minute.
So, I go to pack up our boogey boards ’cause over the years, we’ve bought no less than 30, no joke. But, the shed is bare and there are no longer any sand toys on the shelf. Are you kidding me? The only thing I can think of is that in a weak moment, I let them go when I sold the camper in Chincoteague. Oh well, Walmart wins again. The good news is, my two ten year olds just told me they’re too old to play in the sand. The clock is ticking…
The sun is shining and the wind is slow which means it should be a perfect beach day. It’s always a good when you’re with someone you care about. Sitting on the beach or floating in the water is always the best place for a good talk about things you might otherwise miss like what’s for dinner, who’s dating who, and what makes you smile or cry. Raising teenagers is always fodder for a good conversation and with ten grands, there’s no lack of discussion.
I wonder what the water temperature will be. Don’t you just love it when your friend tells you, “Come on in, the water’s fine once you get used to it!” Translation: “Hypothermia ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Come on in and we can head to the ER together when we’re done.”
Can’t forget the occasional dolphin school that swims by. We all stand up, point, and act like it’s the first one we’ve ever seen. Then there’s the banner planes that fly by advertising the latest seafood buffet or happy hour discounts. I often watch the planes fly towards the beach from my hammock in the backyard. My kind of commercial, the kind I can read while laying on my back. Thinking I should hire a banner plane of my own telling everyone where to buy their copy of “Stuck in the Onesies.” Hmmm…
Then there’s the sound of the ocean. I’m thinking that’s the best perk of all. The constant soft whisper of the waves greeting the shoreline over and over. It’s sound hasn’t changed in all these years. It remains the same, whispering my name. Listen closely. I think it knows yours too.