Feet kicked up, sprinkling sand along the small of my back. My water bottle stopped rattling halfway here; the ice cubes melted and now the bottle sweats in the sun with me.
The beach is half full, or half empty. I walked down far enough that the crashing waves have a chance to drown out the screaming children way beyond my left shoulder, as I lay belly down and try to pretend I'm on a beach of solitude.
The green and blue gradient of water that greeted me last Tuesday has been dirtied by weekend tourists and left brown and blue on this Sunday afternoon.
The clouds have smeared above the water a create a shelf upon which more clouds have decided to rest.
I realized on the walk here that our shoes wear us, much like last night's movie captured me and this morning's coffee consumed me as well.
My flip flops will wear me for the summer and dictate my comings and goings like I do my bike's handlebars.
They'll demand painted toes and sandy feet. They'll insist upon aimless walks to absorb more sunshine and then they'll leave lines across my feet when I kick them off, and force me to miss them when I have to trade them for socks.
I hope they'll carry me to many places this summer and re-hydrate the peaceful soul and capture the sweetness I tasted three years ago when I first met serenity.
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