I went to the beach today. I frolicked with Grace. I ridiculed Lizzie and her boyfriend, Dylan. I saw the waves lick the beach and reach out towards my feet—I let them. I saw the vast sky of H2O inspire its curious tongue. I felt the vestige of the sea cling to my ankles and the fringe of my mahogany corduroy pants. I felt the soft foam and wished that all the world could be as tender. Remnants of seashells lay scattered across the shore, already picked apart by cavorting, rowdy children. But the ocean doesn’t mind—it likes to give, and every day it will continue to do so.
Lizzie and Dylan touched each other and clung to each other and doted on each other like teenage love. They danced and Dylan lifted her up and carried her in his arms and when he set her down they landed on a fury of sand and laughter. They petted each other like household cats and they were beautiful to watch because of their carefree happiness and sun-tousled hair. It was fun to watch them, or funny, because they took all their frivolous gestures so seriously and I couldn’t help harassing them even if I wanted to.
Grace and I pressed our bare feet on the air-pockets of the sand, delightfully satisfying some odd and inexplicable desire that neither of us knew we had. Every once and a while we would peer over our sun-brushed shoulders and laugh at the oblivious and inseparable pair behind us.
Days like this are never supposed to end… I would give everything for those minutes to be converted into years… and for those years to be the whole of my life. But my wish will not be granted, so I will content myself with my memory and when I find myself in my wretched bio class I will recall that this time yesterday or the day before yesterday or a week or a month or months ago I laughed and skipped and cared for nothing but the moment and dreamed of nothing but to be myself and be where I was forever.
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