one of my most favorite things to do (lyn)

No one wants to go to the beach, despite the sun.  Jean prefers to go late afternoon.  My father hasn't been in years.  My mother has a four o'clock appointment so she doesn't want to come.  And the boys are still sleeping.  

That's okay.  I'll go alone.


I pack my usual lunch.  15-20 Pringle light potato chips, ice tea, some grapes, and half a sandwich from Dean’s.  Today’s sandwich is honey roasted turkey, lettuce, cheese and pickles. 

I take out the newly charged golf cart, and load it up with chairs, towels, and an umbrella.  We all have our favorites.  My mother likes the chair that sits high off the ground.  Jean likes the small pink chair with the hood.  The one she bought in Ocean City years ago, and cannot find another one like it.  And I have the orange Telescope chair with the hood and wooden arms that (I discovered after buying) is heavier than I'd prefer.  It’s still too early in the season to include the floats on the golf cart.  Besides, driving with floats is not the easiest thing to maneuver.

I get to the beach about 1, and already the small parking lot is nearly full.   The guard, who is hired each year to prevent non-resident guests from entering this small, but beautiful, private beach, greets me.

The air is hot but the water is cold.  I settle in.  I find a spot right near the water’s edge.  It’s low tide, which is nice.  More room on the beach.  I have my lunch.  My book.  My various sunscreen items.  My prescription sunglasses.  My phone. And my chair.

Summer has arrived.