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07/24/2004: "Summery"

It was, first of all, a smell. After many hours of travel, driving over a scrubby, moorish landscape, a smell of brackish water and decaying vegetation. At the base of the causeway, on the island side, was the realtor's office where the keys waited. Another ten minutes, along short, densely packed blocks of houses, then left, stopping at one indistinguishable from the others. It was still only mid-morning, so after the necessary tasks had been completed, which seemed to take forever, there was the beach. Smooth and pale, blinding in the sun, and there, where it ended, the sea began. Regular as rhythm the waves surged ashore. Towels were spread, an umbrella raised, and the introductions were made. The child was tentative and timid, the ocean inscrutable and protean. The first wave came as a big scary surprise. Where's the fun in this?