Lazy Beach Days

2 Pages 531 Words

Lazy Beach Days
I have lived near the beach all of my life. I was born in Wilmington, North Carolina, and one of my earliest memories is of digging my fingers into the warm, wet sand. I’ve heard stories of when my mother used to sit me at the water’s edge, and I’d laugh and play as the surf washed up around my chubby legs.
In our elementary school days, my friends and I would spend our summers at the beach, taking turns burying each other in the sand up to our chins. We collected many different types of seashells--pointed, spiral ones that we used to call a unicorn’s horn, conch shells, sand dollar pieces, and not to forget the big beautiful ones that made great necklaces. But mostly, we played in the water, jumping over the high waves, or sitting in the surf as the waves knocked us all around, and screaming at the rush of salt water up our nose.
Then, I was in high school, and the beach was where the gorgeous, sun-bleached surfers rode the waves and walked the shores all day. Now I never entered the water, I looked horrible with wet hair! Instead, my friends and I laid on huge, oversized beach towels, smelling of suntan oils, and baking in the sun. We made a point to turn over about every fifteen minutes so that we wouldn’t burn, well that, and to peep out at the guys.
Now that I’m in college, and working I have little time to visit the beach during the day.
Even so, I enjoy going to the beach at night almost as much as I do during the day. I love walking along the surf under a cast of pale moonlight, listening to the waves pounding the shore, and feeling the sharp seashells against my tender feet. The sound of gentle breezes rustling the sea grass, and the calling of the gulls together make a soothing song.
Though I have always loved the beach, I don’t think it has always loved me back. I can recall quite vividly the horrible, gritty crunch of the mouthful of sand I took when I was little. I just ...