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Essay Archive - A Day At The Beach
A Day At The Beach
I run down the boardwalk, not worrying about getting splinters in my
tender feet. Every ten or fifteen feet I stop, sometimes to smell the salty
sea air, but mostly to wait for my parents who plod along behind carrying
chairs, coolers, and other beach paraphernalia. I yell back to them to hurry,
and they reply that I can run ahead and find a good spot. I yelp with glee and
run as fast as my little legs will carry me. I stop where the dark, brown of
the boardwalk meets the light, white of the beach. My dad warned me about how
hot the sand ca....
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