|A view from the rear of the hotel|
It is hot today, hotter than it was yesterday or the day before, but oh so incredibly beautiful, I think as I relax and listen to the cry of a child as he plunges into an icy cold wave.
I sit back and close my eyes and listen, too, to the roar of the ocean as it lulls me into a state of deep relaxation, a state from which my mind will inevitably drift to some memory from the past or to some hope for the future until the call of a seagull or the voice of a child brings me back again to this moment of bliss.
Yesterday, after spending almost nine hours on the beach, I "walked the boards" intent on getting those decadent fried Oreo cookies that are dipped in batter, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and served with a side of chocolate sauce. (It was the first time I got to eat all five of them by myself!)
It really is hot today, I think again as I move my chair closer to the water's edge and watch the remnants of a wave inching its way toward my toes, making me squeal with delight.
Later as I fold up my chair and walk back across the sand to my car, I slowly become aware of the "imaginary" song playing in my head, a song with lyrics that wish every winter day could be just like Christmas, and every summer day just one more day at the beach.
My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE
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