The Beach

OR

WHY I WAS AWOL FOR A BUNCH OF DAYS

The ocean is such a visceral part of humanity. The sound of the waves, the salt air, the grit is something every human should feel during their lives. I can remember visiting North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, every summer of my childhood. I had happy memories until the dysfunction of my mother's family came to light and those early sights became somehow tainted.

It was because of this that I knew I had to replace my not-quite-right remembrances with new ones. Memories filled with giggles, squeals, laughs, and chatter. Last week, we made introductions. Atlantic Ocean, meet Miss-Miss, Bubba, and J-man. Miss-Miss, Bubba, and J-man, meet the primordial soup from whence you came.




With initial introductions over, we got down to the nitty-gritty.


I do believe that's the first time I've ever seen a sand angel, much less two of them.


The Ty-man, who hates sand, who would rather sit pool-side, made sand castles every day. God, how I love that man.


You can't tell by this picture but Miss-Miss should be on a Coppertone ad. If you even just say the word "sun" she gets as brown as chocolate milk.


And who can say no to beach-side ice cream with a Nana photobomb?


There were lots of beautiful beach sunsets.


And "Real, Live, Dead Fish" on sale at the Gay Dolphin.


Roasted marshmallows.


And twins who turned five years old. Sixty months. 1,826 days. 43,824 hours. 2,629,440 minutes. 157,766,400 seconds. Times two. I can't believe they're half a decade old.

Thank goodness for precious memories.