The sun-drenched mornings of spring sang out announcements of approaching summer in suburbia. Cool breezes and bright sunlight reminds her of by-gone days spent at the beach watching sea gulls and pelicans flying effortlessly over the waves of ocean water. Visual memories of the random brown pelican spying its next meal in the murky bowl of sushi water suddenly dive bombing into the ocean and then emerging victoriously never ceased to amaze the girl. It was not for having spent numerous days at the beach that make her yearn for sandy beaches, but the happy memories of a child walking on the warm sands of the Gulf. So pleasantly memorable, she is sent on a vacation of time travel back to the slow, carefree days spent on a Gulf Coast beach in Texas.
As a child the start of summer occasionally brought weekends with her parents and brother at a beach house. Her dad repaired and painted a beach house for an elderly couple with an invalid son who would soon arrive from the city to spend the summer. The couple’s friend back in the city allowed the little girl and her family to enjoy her beach house next door while her dad worked. During the hot days her dad worked preparing the house for the elderly couple while the girl and her brother played in on the sandy beach. It was most fun when Dad took a break to join them in the water playing, laughing and feeling the grit between their toes on the hot sand. Late in the day as the sun set, shrimp boats sailed into sight. Sitting on the porch juicy watermelon trickled down the chins of the children and a game of spitting seeds would bring the day to an end.
Hot sticky days turned into hot sticky nights of sitting on the edge of a short bed, looking through window screens at the ocean waves. A full moon threw a spotlight on foaming white caps as they tumbled down on the sand. Listening to the waves crash in and out like a huge sea creature’s breathing was hypnotizing. Through the open windows, a humid Gulf Coast breeze blew across the open area of the room and the little girl felt sleep would never come. Although, with nothing more to do the next day except build sand castles, sleepily sit on the porch, soaking in the hot, lazy days of summer; it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t sleep tonight. Swoosh! Crash! In. Out. Swoosh! Crash! In. Out. Loud waves mingled in with the calls of sea gulls as they sailed above the swells of salt water. Trapped forever in my senses is the taste of salt on dry parched lips.