A coastal summer
I would like to listen to the sound of bonfire sticks crackling as he chucks one on and the second he throws to a dithering dog-or the waves lapping on the shore steadily, a toddler’s toes dipping in that sea and then he screams and runs right away to his parents who are devouring literature upon the shore. They loyally guard his sandcastle then chide him for pushing his sister who had stumbled and fallen on that work of art. I’d like to watch the tide go in as picnic baskets are cleared away and the last of the suncream is lathered thick on children’s skin. I’d like to taste the locals' ice cream letting bristles of my hair stick to my face and needing a second as the first melted right away sullying my beach wear. I’d like to smell sausages almost charcoaled on the grill as children are as speedy as rockets with plastic plates at the ready. A summer living by the coast would be sure to enliven my spirit and cater for my senses.
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