I am not a beach person. I'm intimidated by the power of the waves, broiled by the rays of the sun and annoyed by the ubiquitousness of sand.
Yet every year, we come to the beach, and every year, we talk about the feasibility of buying a vacation home here. Someday.
The thing is, I love the beach - on my own terms. I hate to swim, surf or play games in the sand, but I love to sit by the ocean under an umbrella and read - or write - as the waves crest a safe distance away and a sea breeze cools me. I love to start my days on a screened-in patio, preferably with a Starbucks chai in hand, ceiling fan whirring overhead. And, about four days into our vacation, I begin to feel sad at the thought of leaving behind beach breezes and books on the seashore. Inevitably, we end up booking our next trip - in the fall, if we're lucky - before we even pull out of the parking lot.
For those who know me, it probably comes as no surprise that I like the beach the same way I like pretty much everything else - my way. And since the temperatures are supposed to climb to close to 100 this weekend, maybe it is time to go home. I like my beach days about ten degrees cooler.
And so our Labor Day weekend plans should come at just about the perfect time.