Saturday morning, while staying with Red-haired Sister's family in Small Town Near the Ocean, I woke early, while the kids and dogs were still sleeping, and walked down to the little local beach. Boats splattered with dew crowded along the docks of the marina, bumping against the piers when waves came through. Something in the rigging made a chiming noise. The beach itself was empty, except for a cop parked near the entrance and a woman doing tai chi forms under a tree.
I swam at this same beach as a child, more than forty years ago, during our August vacations to the shore to visit my mother's family. I can remember pretending to swim by pushing my body along with my hands on the sandy bottom, trying to fool my grandmother and Aunt Seashell. Older braver kids would jump off the wooden dock, but I always stayed close to shore. There's a new pier now, and a curving boardwalk the runs from the marina to beach, but the sand is still the same, brown with little pebbles, and the water is still the color of pine needles. The air still smells like salt.
5 comments:
Beautiful and love the memory.
I am awash in memories of my own water side visits as a child and so want to go back and see more of them again.
While in college, I used to go walk and sit at the marina just to hear that chiming noise. Then I was fortunate enough to date a guy whose family owned a sailboat and would let me study on the boat. Wonderful memories.
I wanna live where I can smell salt and hear waves every single day for the rest of my life.
a long have passed since the last time that I was near of the sea, I need to be there once again, is so relaxing hear the tide, the birds and wind telling you many histories.
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