As the sea gulls chirped at each other and hopped around on the sand, the beach started to fill up with people, it seemed, from all over the world.
Beach umbrellas and chairs, towels and coolers dotted the shore for as far as the eye could see. Listening to chatter in other languages, someone turned on some Latin music, and the celebration began.
Families gathered to smear sunscreen on each other, talk about their trips thus far, and sprawled across the sand here and there, some even taking naps in the middle of the day, while others enjoyed beverages and still others bobbed up and down in the waves.
This truly is the sea of humanity, I thought.
And I am in it, like a grain of sand among other specks on the sea shore.
The white sand clung to my legs that I had carefully smothered in sunscreen (to no avail, I still am red as a lobster.)
So instead of trying to brush it off, I played in the sand with my hands.
It was like sugar.
How it reminded me of baking as a kid. And how I loved equally making sand castles.
Somehow I must make more time to go to the beach. My happy place, indeed.
The salty air is good for all things that need healing.
Tonight, I will sleep, knowing I swam a little in the ocean.
“Vitamin Sea,” my youngest daughter calls it.