It was just shy of 80 degrees. The sun was warm, the wind wasn't too strong, and the water was cold until you got used to it. George got out Drake's Thomas kite and tried to fly it, but it was just too cheaply made to fly well. (Thanks a lot, Easter Bunny). Still, it was fun to try. Drake entertained himself by digging and jumping into a large hill of sand. Bart made friends with some other boys and girls around his age who went digging in search of buried treasure, and when that failed to turn up anything, sand crabs. Skylar was determined to catch a fish and rigged up a flimsy little fishing pole made of dried out reeds, sea grass, and a sharp, curved shell. George and I relaxed and enjoyed the kids enjoying themselves. George hates the sand and saltwater at the beach, and I must admit I really don't like getting sand in my bathing suit bottoms, but there is just something so peaceful about the ocean. I absolutely love going. I could sit there on the beach all day long, watching the waves and just listening to all the sounds. If I didn't have to keep an eagle eye on the children, I would take my computer or a notebook and write, write, write...If we had the choice, I would move closer to the ocean, so that I could go every day. I would live in my bathing suit in the summer, and the kids and I would spend all day out collecting shells and looking for starfish and sand crabs. If I were an artist, I would paint the colors that I saw. Once I tried, with pastels, to recapture the colors of ocean and sky, but I just couldn't get it right. I have always been drawn to the beach. There are just some places or things (like Scotland) that speak to your soul and make you come alive on the inside. I think if I could live by the ocean or in Scotland, I would be able to write again. I pray that I will get that chance.
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