I wanted to visit the beach, the place I have always loved.

The beach was a blaze of parasols, hot colors to match the burning sand underfoot. Against the percussion of the waves was the laughter, coming in bursts and rolling like the ocean.

I love the beach because I can walk for miles.The sand looked clean like sugar spread out for miles, as it squished between my toes. I drink in the sound of the gulls, crying for their suppers and watch the sun sink it the sky. Then the breeze hits my other cheek and so does the sun.

The waves roll in white tipped, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach after they crash in their soft way. The waves lap in their steady rhythm, frigid and laced with sea-foam. Their melody is soporific, this music of water dragging eon rounded stones up and down the beach. There is nothing noisy about them, yet they have sound. Perhaps to me it is more like the music of my childhood summers so long ago with the people I have loved and lost. If I close my eyes I can hear my mother calling me for lunch, my father rustling the newspaper as he turns a fresh leaf. We grew up by the ocean, waking to the sound of the waves on the dark golden sands. In my closed hand appears a red bucket and spade, there is nothing to worry me, no fears.


Amongst the brush strokes of hues that are muted as if bleached by millions of years of sun, I can taste the salty air and feel it chill my icy face. From the upper left corner the gulls cry, circling until the fishing fleet returns. The beach is gentle beneath my bare feet. Tips of shells peek from holes, made by little creatures, seeking shelter in the soft sand. The sun’s rays peacefully float, resting on the warm waters. Timid clouds are rarely exposed, leaving the sky to beam blue. My ears invite in the quiet whisper of waves, sharing the ocean’s secrets. A graceful song, when birds calm calls break the silence in the settled scene. The fresh airs salty smell tickles my nose. Light kisses from the occasional breeze send tingling sensations through me. The sun beat down on the calm ocean as a gust of wind forced itself past me. I shivered as I ran my hand down my forearms.Β The wind whipped around me, cutting through the stitches of my clothing, and carried the unmistakable aroma of salt. But somehow, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the faint taste of salt on the breeze.


I take another look at the beach and commit it to my memory.


15 thoughts on “Gadabout

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