sand and sun

I hadn't checked out the time required to get from here to there (a nearly-too-long-for-a-day-trip three hours each way). I knew nothing about where we were headed, except it promised sand, water and waves. That was enough.

A year in New Zealand spoiled me. I didn't take enough advantage of always living within a few minutes drive of the ocean waters, but I didn't really have to. I stumbled across enough beaches, rarely needing to plan an excursion.

Since we've been back in the States, I haven't stumbled across the ocean. Most of the time, I couldn't see water to the horizon no matter how badly I wanted to.

So we headed east until we hit the Atlantic. The waters weren't the blue-green of my memories, more of a green-brown. But the sand was properly pale yellow, and the sun shone just enough. Too much, really, for my skin, victim of my carelessness. Despite the obstacles, it was exactly what I wanted.