on Sundays when I was young, we’d drive to the beach. I remember packing up those small plastic pails, shovels, even a toy truck, I think. It would be around 11am, because the sun is just right then.
We’d all squeeze into my father’s car and head off, driving into the winding road that lead to the beach. We’d play in the sand, my three siblings and I.. Grab a freesbie, jump into the hotel pool, play by the seashore, and after we got really tired, had lunch. For starters, it was always fried chicken, with crackers, and we’d have something else, I can’t really re-call what. Orange juice?
On the sand, there were cute little pine cones sprinkled like confetti everywhere, that we’d accidentally step on.. And the taste of the spray of the sea..
I want to do that for just one more time.
