Beachside morning and a shared moment
Today the beachside wasn’t just a shared destination, it was a reminder to appreciate the moment, the sound of the waves, the warmth of the 9am sun and a testament to how easily strangers sit close, upholding social decorum to not invade personal space and like a Mills and Boon novel, everyone was dreamy, and the atmosphere was euphoric.
As I positioned myself against the concrete retaining wall beneath the Manly esplanade, smoothing the creases from a freshly laundered beach towel and ready to get stuck into my summer beach read, it was difficult to concentrate on the words. There was more happening in the sunshine, and I unabashedly watched beneath my wide-brimmed hat in a non-creepy manner.
Sitting in front, a family of three wore matching rash shirts, they shared egg and bacon rolls and poured orange juice from a 2-litre bottle. Other than 'yes' or 'thank you,' they didn’t share conversation, but gazed towards the crowds and followed the bodies with their eyes trudging along the horizon. Perhaps the boy was waiting for the right time to run into the water, or perhaps mum was wishing to be alone, or perhaps they were all just happy to have made it another week – like me, Saturday couldn’t have come fast enough.
They watched a dad and his teenage son bound out of the surf, making a beeline dive for their towels, laughing as they dropped with a thud, flicking the sand in all directions. Bald, tanned and athletic, they could have been poster boys for Budgy Smugglers in their matching turquoise swimmers.
A school ruler distance away two bodies canoodled under a green and red floral umbrella. Their distinct colonial accent commented on the motels' lack of freshly brewed coffee, the astronomical price of fish and chips and the fact that beer should be drunk at breakfast. The joys of Western civilisation, where a pale ale can aid in digestion.
I saw her fabulous tote before I saw the fabulous her. Her canvas bag screamed ‘Ciao Bella,’ which translated to ‘Come and look at me.’ It reminded me of the ‘Hola Beautiful’ bag I should have bought. Not because I need another bag, but because Hola Beautiful is how my husband greets me every day of the year and it could have been a sweet reminder. Bella glided across the sand like Jesus on the water, pretty, in a blue striped shirtdress, wavy blonde locks under a white Fedora, accompanied by her posse.
I hope she wasn’t a mean girl. Mean girls cause grief and are insecure and should be told to shut the fuck up. But as Bella passed, she commented on her beau’s exciting travel plans. It was their last morning together before he ventured beyond. Five continents in six months. I hope he returns to her; they would probably make lovely babies. She definitely didn’t seem mean.
By now I was glistening, and the water was inviting. The nippers had retreated. There was more space to dive into the waves. I bolt in without testing the waters, submerge underneath and hope my bikini top stays in place. Of course, it doesn’t and I laugh as I come up for air. But there is no one near me to see, plenty are lying on the sand, probably watching someone else or asking themselves 'Is the temperature of the water really that fresh?'
#observation #momentintime #beachlover #summerinthecity