Beach

Growing up...we visited the beach every summer.
My Grandpa - my dad's dad - had a house on the canal just minutes from the beach.
I loved the beach. I still love the beach. My dad and my grandpa taught me to love the ocean.
I looked forward to visiting my grandpa. He was a great cook. He was a fisherman. He had citrus trees in his backyard and squirrels that danced like tightrope walkers on the overhead wires.
I collected seashells and sand dollars and bits of coral and an occasional starfish with my brother and sister every summer. We would collect them, wash them, and take them home. They were precious treasures. Magical, almost.
My favorite part of the ocean is just along the surf, letting it wash over my toes.
I miss the ocean. It's been a long time since I've been there. I miss my grandpa. I miss those summers of my childhood. Two days in crammed in the car were worth the sand between my toes, the salty air on my freckled face, the sun kissing my shoulders and nose, the treasures to be found, the memories to be made.

mel