The beach on a sunny day is a sugar high. A shot of euphoria.
Warm crests of sand meet the underneaths of your knees. It molds to the small of your back and clings to your toes like sugar to a cruller.
A light breeze carries the frothy laughter of others and lifts the ends of your hair, swirls around your neck and swoops down your shoulders. The water is crisp and clean and tickles your toes but not your ankles because you're a camel not a dolphin. Your family teases you for it, and they splash you from afar.
So you read a thoughtful book that has you contemplating what you'll be when you grow up. What you could be. Or want to be.
At the end of the day the beach crashes you like a sugar high. You curl into yourself and draw your towel up toward your chin and sleep a half sleep. Lazy waves succumb and inch up the shore. The soft pop of clam holes appear magically along wet sand. Metal pulleys clank listlessly against the mast of a sail boat.
You float in and out of your half sleep and its sweet dream, and lucky for you, as good as this dream is, it's not nearly as good as your reality.