Summer time is here! I’m back to the first summer that we both had driver’s licenses and you had that hand me down of a car. You’d come ripping through my cul de sac and that crazy neighbor of mine would shout at you every time, “SLOW DOWN!” We’d be laughing our butts off peeling out of my neighborhood, headed for our favorite donut shop. It was already hot and we were headed for the beach.
We’d arrive at the beach and pull out all our gear for the day. A towel and a folding chair. Yeah, back then, before kids, we traveled pretty light. We’d pick the perfect spot, away from that guy who was combing the beach with his metal detector and close enough to those hot guys that we would talk about the whole time we baked on the beach. You would pull out the tanning OIL, (do they even make that stuff anymore???) and we’d baste ourselves with that coconut scented goodness. You were hardcore and would rarely hit the water. I couldn’t take all that heat and would find myself wading out into the waves surrounded by the noisy kids and an errant boogie board or two.
Lunchtime was a split hot dog on a hamburger bun, courtesy of the snack bar. They always had the best pickles. All the while we were talking, and talking, and talking. We could talk about anything and everything. There were dates and breakups, family drama, friends, music, movies, and dreams. Oh the dreams we had!! The plans we made!
By early afternoon we were crispy and salted, ready to leave. We’d meander into the traffic of PCH and make our way back home. You’d drop me off and speed away. I’d run into the shower to wash off all the sand and salt. I’d get into my favorite t-shirt and shorts and take a nap under the breeze of my ceiling fan. Not a care in the world. I’d wake to the smell of dinner cooking. By the time I sat down to take my first bite, you’d be on the phone, asking me what I was doing that night.
Thanks, my friend.