There wasn't a single cloud in the sky tonight, so I could easily see the way the different blues arched overhead: bright and vibrant straight above, then fading to near-white at the very edge of the horizon. It looked sharp, as if the circle of the sky rushed down and sliced through the sea right there.
We didn't stay long enough to watch the sun reach out and play across the water, so I can only imagine how beautiful that must have been. I rather wish we had.
A very young boy in stars-and-stripes shorts stood by the sea with a shovelful of sand. He looked as triumphant as a two or three-year-old boy could look.
"Look at America," said one of my brothers. "He claims this land for himself!"
America held his shovel up with both hands and awkwardly tossed its contents at the waves. They mostly plopped at his feet.
He bent down for another scoop of sand and did the whole thing again.
When we were preparing to leave, America walked past us towards the boardwalk, wailing as he clung to his father's hand. He pointed somewhere and sobbed harder. He was obviously trying to get something.
When we were walking back to our house, we passed a family: mother, father, and young son. They were fully dressed now, without their bright swimsuits, so it took a second look for us to recognize them.
"Hey," said Jeremy. "Is that America?"
Maybe we'll see him again tomorrow.
Fireworks are booming from somewhere beyond the other side of the street. They're mostly red and gold, and I have no idea why they're being set off at all. Maybe a clear summer night is a good enough reason to celebrate.
One golden firework lingers in the sky after it explodes into a thousand tiny sparkles.
I imagine this might be what it looked like if it rained light instead of water.
The seagulls were massive in number. You couldn't look any direction without seeing one, or twenty. They were also massively obnoxious, constantly stalking as close to you as possible and swooping low over your head, not to mention swarming at the merest hint of food. It would be easy to hate them, or at least resent their presence.
Instead, I mostly envied them.
I envied the way they could spread their wings and beat them till their bodies rose.
I envied the way they could streak through the air just as fast as they wanted to.
I envied the way they could soar upon the strong, cool wind, confidently tilting here and there as they rode the shifting currents of the vivid sky.
These rugged scavengers are as loud as they are bold. They'd answer me, no doubt, but I don't know how to ask them if they'll teach me how to fly.
I'd ask tomorrow if I could.