In my family, we are beach people. I love the beach. My parents first real date was at the beach, the day after my mom's senior prom. My parent's last date was at the beach, in a manner of speaking, as my mom had the heart attack that ended her life on a beach in the Keys. Now, I'm not brave enough to go back to that beach yet, but I do love the beach. For two and a half years, my parents and sisters lived in the Bahamas, where they swam on a daily basis. My mom was pregnant with me at the time, which may be one reason she only gained 12 pounds the entire time she carried me, and I was 7 pounds and 15 and a half ounces of the 12 pounds. Anyway, when we were young, we were so poor, so it was a huge treat to get to go to the beach. My sisters and I go the beach nearly every summer, although for a couple of years we tried the mountains instead. This summer, I missed our week at the beach, because I was in London. I know what an incredible hardship right? We decided, after a bit of begging on my part, to spend Labor Day weekend at the beach. We got a place at Weston's, which is our favorite place at Englewood. On Friday, right after school, (after a delay for a haircut) I picked up my friend Mrs. Smith, and then Patti and Makiah and we headed to Englewood. Robyn left right after work, so she got there first. My friend Mrs. Smith just retired, she and I taught together for 14 years, and she is thoroughly enjoying her retirement. It makes me a little jealous! She and her family have spent time at Englewood for years, and she and I have spent some summer days there together. Actually, right after my mom died (on Wednesday after the funeral on Monday) she was spending time at the beach and I ran away to join her. She and the beach were just what I needed to sooth my raw feelings. She and I spent hours floating around on noodles in the water and just sitting on the beach. With her, I didn't have to pretend I was OK, because I really wasn't. It was OK for me to cry for no apparent reason with her, and most of the time, she just cried along with me. I didn't have to talk if I didn't want to; I didn't have to be gracious and kind. I could just rant, rave, and carry on and it was OK.
This weekend was not necessarily nice beach weather, thanks for Gustave hanging around, but still, it was the beach and it was marvelous. On Friday night, we got there so late, we just had time to go outside and see and smell the water and watch the stars for a while. On Saturday, we floated around, were amazed at the swarms of dragonflies in front of our room, and then were rained on. We went to eat a late lunch/early dinner at the Fishery in Placida, which is one of our favorite places to eat. We ate, and watched the crabs and the fish jumping right outside the restaurant. It was fabulous, just fabulous. The weather was awful, but we sure enjoyed watching the water. I don't know what it is about the beach, but it's good for me. If I ever win the lottery (which would require me to play), I'm buying a house near the beach. . .
