Summer Memories

I remember the summers of my youth in between boring academic years, working as a beach boy for some miserly few cents. The smell of the sea spray mingling with offensive smell of sweat of dwarf donkeys that galloped over the sand, carrying smiling children all the summer round. Nor could I ever miss the pungent reek of fish 'n chips though come noon I would gladly partake of a greasy piece. I still can hear the laughter, though, of children riding along the beach, the roar of high waves surfing, of young guys jumping and screaming in the shallow waters of the bay, the sight of skimpy bikinis, the melodious music that always blared announcing the ice cream man. Tired, evening approached day after one long day, returning home to rest. I always looked at the deserted beach as the sun descended in the sea, leaving behind it a long stretch of sand littered with magical sand castles, a record of the happiness that ruled the beach those years.