Descriptive: Memories Sculpted in Sand 

            As I walked along the shore, the gentle sea breeze blowing through my hair, memories of a long ago romance came back to me as the water rushed over the rocks. Then again, it was never lost. I smile as the man beside me wraps his hand around mine. He guides me along as he did those so many years ago. As we walk, I conjure up those old feelings as I am once again reminded of our youth.

            I look out into the churning sea and all I can see is water for miles. Resting on top of the water lays the sun, surrounded in clouds of bright purples and blues. The sunset is breathtaking and I remember sitting on a beach towel at this same spot, watching a sunset much like this one. The air around us is misty and the light is slowly fading from the sky. Afraid of getting to cold we start walking again toward our new condo.

            A bird squawks above my head and I glance up. It’s a seagull and it is making its way toward the docks up ahead. It fights against the hissing of the Atlantic wind as it heads toward its destination. We stop for a minute and listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. My mind goes back into the past and I can see him and myself playing in the sand. I see myself get up and run for the water; he is right on my heals. I can still hear the sounds of our bubbling laughter as we tackled each other. The waves would wash over our heads and all we could hear was the rushing noise of water and then we would come up and all that was left was the gentle sound of rolling waves. I come back to myself and see a seashell lying on the ground a few feet away. I pick it up and hold it to my ear. Behold the magic of the ocean. I listen blissfully to the blood rushing in my ears; sounding strangely like the sound of the ocean. I smile a secretive smile and tuck it away into my pocket. I remember how we would spend hours running along the shore looking for seashells. We would only stop when our stomachs told us it was dinnertime.

            Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a hot dog stand. I laughed out loud for it was exactly the same one from many years ago. He hears me and follows the direction of my gaze. He laughs also and pulls me forward in the direction of the stand. He orders our favorite, remembering exactly what I used to like back then. I inhale deeply trying to catch the smoky smell of cooked hotdogs. My mouth waters when he hands me the hotdog topped with ketchup and onions. The onions are cooked and I can smell their tangy scent. I watch my husband shove his hotdog into his mouth and I raise my eyebrow at him before I delicately take a bite out of mine. My eyes close in pure delight as I sink my teeth into the plump meet of the hotdog. My husband interrupts me from my delightful consumption of my food by reminding me of the lateness of the hour. I nod my head in understanding and we start to move along once again; I am still enjoying my hotdog however.

            Just before the sun disappears below the water I reach down and pick up a hand of red sand. I role the grainy bits of beach sand between my fingers and watch it slip from my hand. I reflect on the past, remembering the sculptures we carved out of sand on this very beach. Before we head in I am determined to walk a little ways into the water. I pull him toward the water and he resists some, insisting that it is to cold and I might catch a chill. As usual I pay him no mind, skeptical of the fact that I could get a cold from merely putting my feet into the ocean water. Finally the cold water wraps itself around my ankles and I shiver as icicles run up my spine. I take a moment to breathe in the salty air and taste its bitterness on my tongue. My hand slips into my pocket to graze the smooth surface of my treasure. My hand runs across the ridges of the shell and underneath to the slicks , wet, surface of the inner part. I walk a little farther until my toes sink down into the mushy muck of the ocean floor. The wind starts to pick up and my husband pulls on my hand. I hesitate to move, not wanting to go but he merely picks me up and heads towards the shore. He can be just as stubborn as I can be. He once told me that Big Blue did in fact exist and no amount of scientific reasoning on my part would convince him that Big Blue was just a myth.

            We are back inside and I am staring out the bay window. This condo of ours was only bought for a vacation home and our week away from our lives is up. Its time to catch our flight back to D.C. I know this isn’t our last beach visit but the start of many more new memories of seashells, hotdogs and pounding waves.