Beach Bum
She walks slowly anticipating the breeze. As she approaches the sand she bends over anxiously and pulls off her sandals… Ah, there it is! The wind catches her hair and twirls it toward her face. She uses the small open spots between her twirling hair to watch where she is going as she digs her feet into the sand. Her feet burn at first touch but as she digs deep enough when she walks she feels the cool sand glide between her toes; the part of the earth that doesn’t touch the sun much but is always there for comfort. All of the good spots are taken so she puts her hand against her forehead as to salute the sky and she watches the seagulls flock in a circle, squawking and dipping toward the water and again to the sky. The bag she is carrying begins to make its way down her shoulder toward her forearm as if to say “This spot is fine” so there she posts. She pulls out the towel and lets it ruffle in the wind before settling it on to the golden sand. She sits on her aged but favorite beach towel. Listening to the waves as she closes her eyes and lets the rumbling water take her to her daydreams. Hair still twirling, towel still ruffling in spots unoccupied, she is happy.
