Beach Fun

 We pulled up to the kiosk and the beach people scanned our license plate to verify that we have a beach pass. We do. We found an open parking spot. We set up our towels by the car (why go out in the sand if you don’t have to? Plus the cooler and radio are conveniently located in the trunk). John pulled out a crossword book. Strain my brain in this heat? Well, the answers must have melted right out of me. I was ready to go in the water. We decided to warm up to the water by playing frisbee first. I gotta say, my aim was better today. But John threw one to the side and as I went to grab it a big wave splashed on me. Oooh! That’s the fun of it. Well, now I was ready to get in the water. It was cooler and clearer than I remember. At first I tried to beat the waves, but after a while I just let them hit me and finally dunked under one (holding my nose like a nerd). 

Two other ladies were in the water and asked us have you been out to the sandbar? And why don’t you go out to the sandbar? Why?? Geez, pesky…I wanted to say that’s above my pay-grade lady! Plus, I don’t go that far out in the ocean, I’m not a good swimmer, I am scared of sharks and other creatures, and I don’t like it when my feet can’t touch the bottom. But they were a wealth of knowledge: they let us know that the little jelly creatures are known as “bottlecaps,” which don’t sting, but the bigger, bluer ones do, so watch out for those. “In case you’re not from here.” Well, actually I’m not from here; I hail from Virginia, which people keep confusing with West Virginia, and I don’t care anymore where people think I’m from. The point is, I was raised in a cold climate (“I come from the land of the ice and snow…” (Led Zeppelin)) and I think it differentiates me from others and creates a bond between those of us snow-adjusted. But here I am on the beach, where the sun kisses and unites us all as brothers and sisters. Even those of us from West Virginia. 

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