In the end what we remembered was not the bickering or who won the argument, but the waves. The sea’s mysteries, ebbing, flowing, sparkling with light; they mesmerized us that day and every day we visited. We washed up on the shores of our angst and rested there on the hot sands, feeling the water tickle us into smiling. We felt the breezes and forgot whatever we were arguing about before we arrived. The ocean always soothed us. We remember that.
On this particular day, it was no less so. Our snarling voices echoed between us as we jumped out of the car in our flip-flops and went to get our bags, chairs and the cooler from the hatch. The bags were filled with all good things; coconut scented lotion, whatever we’d deemed a good book for that day, huge soft towels, a lip balm and a sun hat.
Flip flops; what a silly name. It always makes us think of that dumb Jimmy Buffet song. What was the name of it now? Oh yes; “Marguaritaville.” We hated that song, but we couldn’t help but think of it and smile when we wore the most comfortable beach shoes ever made. Without fail we’d mutter off-key refrains of that song as we made our way to the sand. Since we’d usually arrived bickering, the dour tones of the song pleased us. People tended to smile as our silliness as they passed. (For more of this story, click the page link below…)