You see the little crabs scuttling away – you’ve noticed how they always walk sideways? And it’s so magical the way they go gupp inside their little holes in the sand. I wonder if they’re dancing perhaps, and not walking.
I like to see you in whites. Your linen pants rolled all the way up to your knees and your soft cotton shirt and the indulgent smile – like living inside this moment, in the now is all you know. I just want to run back to you and put my arms around your neck and rest my head on your shoulder while I wonder if it is the ocean smelling like you or you smelling like the ocean.
I do this while you try and hold my hair back. The breeze is making them fly away in dementia. I do look nice with long hair.
I want to collect some shells from over there, you let me go and watch. Perhaps you’re wondering what will I do with them. Perhaps I will forget all about them as soon as we’re home.
We’ve tanned so much in these past few days, soaking up all the sunshine to keep winter away from our bones. I have a vague memory of times when I’d never want to go home from a vacation. I don’t know if it was me really.
I know you will ask me tomorrow, tease me if I’m ready to go home. I just want you know, I’ve never been readier than this, to be home.