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Only problem is, I didn't want to do it. I wished for the days when everything was easy and no changes were necessary. Just one more walk down by the cool blue sea before diving in to the process of reshaping my life....And so as I walk, I dream of days past and in my mind's eye, I envision my beautiful future...The future that I will create.
TheChicGeek
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It was too hot, just too darned hot. The morning sun looked like a huge orange ball, and clouds with no definition had a glow upon them.
Something seemed unusual although I couldn't fathom the uneasiness that overcame me as I came in from the surf to water barely knee deep.
Other beachgoers ashore looked alarmed as they stared out to sea.
I turned and saw a white haze on the horizon. There was a sailboat with a red sail not too far out, and several surfers were riding a wave in; kids frolicked in the water.
I watched in fascination as the haze, which looked like a white curtain, became more distinct, still well in the distance but one could tell it was moving toward the shore very fast.
Seabirds all took off at once, as a faint roaring sound became louder and mothers frantically screamed for their kids. I realized then that the surfline had receded and that I was standing on the sand; the water was over 100 yards away!
The red sail disappeared into the white broth, which now appeared to rise out of the sea, as it gained height, revealing a dark base.
I felt an eerie calm, like this was something I had experienced before--a deja vu feeling, and I knew that this was my last trip to the beach.
I came to my senses when Pat's voice reminded me it was time to go. We were headed for a day at the beach.
Only problem is, I didn't want to do it. I wished for the days when everything was easy and no changes were necessary. Just one more walk down by the cool blue sea before diving in to the process of reshaping my life....And so as I walk, I dream of days past and in my mind's eye, I envision my beautiful future...The future that I will create.
The sun kissed my skin, as the breeze gently licked at my cheeks. The warmth of the sand baking my bare feet. The scent of the salt water invades my thoughts. And I wonder what is on the other side of the crytstal blueness so vast.
Sitting on the beach in paradise, I knew what had to be done. I had to build a shopping mall! There would have to be, at least, one store that was totally chocolate. There had to be an aquarium that plummeted out to the bottom of the sea where we could all view the wild life of the ocean au natural! Yes, paradise or not, I need a mall.
Sitting on the beach in paridise I knew what had to be done... but it could wait until after vacation.
Sighing, I grabbed the familiar shape at my side, dusted the grains of sand from it's jacket and continued the story of the half blood prince . . .
What is it about the beach that calms people so? What is it about the heat, the salty scent, the warm sand, the slight breeze?
What is it about the beach that makes people smile? The sun wafting up across the sand and the air with its slight crisp? The sound of the water crashing down at the edge? The feel of the damp cool sand between your toes?
Why is it that even the mentioning of the beach sends me into a euphoric state and I long to go? I long to sit in the sun or under the light shade of an umbrella. I long to stretch out lazily on a towel or beach chair. I long to close my eyes beneath the sunglasses and dream.
The beach holds a natural power: the power to refresh a soul, to rejuvenate a life.
Sitting there on the beach in paradise I knew what had to be done. I have to come back more often.
Sitting there on the beach in paradise I knew what had to be done...pack sunscreen next time.
Sitting there, on the beach, in Paradise, I knew what had to be done.
It was obvious, really, I couldn't juist leave him there, buried in the sand. Even though he deserved it.
The children, bless them, had thought they were doing me a favour, after all the arguing and fighting, last night.
They'd tempted him out to play beach volley ball, tripped him up, hit him hard with their shovel, then buried him. Completely.
I'd watched it all from the balcony.
Now, though, I had to do the right thing. I have to go and dig him up. If he's still alive, I'll hve to take the blame, I can't let the children suffer.
Pradise? Hah!
Beach Rant
Beach . . . picturesque? Nah. Sloppy. Once you've wallowed to your heart's content in the sticky ocean salt, you'll tramp back to your umbrella and find that your feet have become sand magnets. And when you squelch into those flip-flops, your gritty toes will grind the grains into the surface of the sponge-like foam, leaving traces of beach in your shoes forever. Not to mention all those wadded-up towels, rubbing against each other and leaving dregs of that same beach in the bottom of your bag.
Beach? Sloppy.
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