I was like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Next week will be a treat.
Beaches. Florida Keys. Family. Sisters. Ernest Hemmingway. Sunsets and rises over water.
Sand in our butts.
We practiced this week. We pretended really hard that this was a real beach and that the water was salty.
The water is a teensy bit colder here than it will be in Florida, I would think.
He really is quite the goofy and smiley kid. He wanted me to get in the water with him, but my poor ol’ roots stretching back to Oklahoma lakes that were so warm in the middle of the summer that they weren’t even refreshing? Well. They forbid me to go in cold water.
So he pouts at me because I stay ashore with my zoomiest lens.
The little one doesn’t care, though. His radar just registers fun and freedom and glorious, glorious summertime.
Next week I shall be a mermaid singing siren songs (ok, maybe just Jimmy Buffet) and galavant the hours away in warm sea water.
Humidity and sunscreen are calling my name, ya’ll.