Last time I went to the beach with my folks, it took me back to my first memories of visiting that and other beaches, and I wrote down some of what I remember from when I was a kid. I might add more to this later on, or I might not. If I do, maybe I'll structure it a bit better and turn it into a story at some point, but most likely I'll leave it as is, at least for now.
Tiny drops spattered my face in my earliest dream-like memories. I felt the wind push my hair from one side of my face to the other, while foamy waves crashed just beyond the shore. The air was cold and damp, though I remained warm, my dad's soft coat wrapped around me as I huddled close against his shoulder, nearly falling asleep.
........
Many return visits later, I could no longer fit inside Dad's jacket, but held his and Mom's hands as we walked along the beach, which was littered as always with seaweeds, broken shells, and burnt driftwood left over from recent bonfires. We didn't mind when the sharp gusts of wind stung our ankles with blown sand, and we paused frequently to pick up smooth black rocks, just the right size for my tiny hands, and cast them as far as we could toward the waves, their entrance into the water going unheard over the constant roar of the sea.
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