...is exactly what I have been doing for the last several days. I know this by the color of my skin--a swirl of tan and red and by the pages of my novel--that have damp rippled edges from the waters of the Gulf and by the chilled beverage choice in the cooler--mojitos. Aaaaahhhh the sand and the sun...and people watching.
Of course boom box boy was back later in the day making his hit again-- leaving me to wonder if he thought I was a cougar or it was still the 1800's, with my Princess A requiring a suitable chaperon when in the company (or pursuit) of the opposite sex. There was the older woman who wore calve high white sport socks as she walked down the beach (boom box boy told us when his posse giggled at her as she passed she exposed her very sun burnt feet...then why go for a walk in your socks down the beach, strange sight?) There is the odd couple that emerge from 10am-noon, just stare at everyone and when they aren't looking you stare back; mostly at the man and his James Bond swimsuit. There is the little girl whose "nanny" brought she and her brother to the beach with no entertainment devices--no rafts, no sand toys...and so little girl wants ME to play with her...and feed her my crackers...and float on my rafts--to which I do with an emotion of empathy. King Ralph watches it all perched in a chair under the god of shade--the E-Zup canopy.
When I wake early in the morning I sit on the balcony watching people fish and pelicans swoop down for a breakfast that is surely surfacing as the poles lure their meal in...a game of cat and mouse between the bird and the fisherman.
When the clock strikes 8am I walk down the shore, sit in the quietness and serenity it offers at that hour of the morning waiting for the rest of the world to join me.