The beach calls to me. It whispers, during those winter months that I dislike so much, that soon it will make everything better. It promises to warm my body, from the souls of my feet to the top of my head. It calls to me until eventually, it warms enough to make good on it's promises.
The beach promises me a happy car ride, windows down, music playing. It promises me eager boys, with arms loaded with fun.
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It promises me plenty of fresh, salty air to fill my lungs and carry our kite.
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It promises that the boys will all find a spot to play and relax.
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The beach promises tidal pools full of treasure,
a leisurely, evening trek on the bay,
and a shiny, golden sunset.
The beach never fails to deliver on it's promises.
“Why do we love the sea? It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.”
--Robert Henri
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