On the Way Back from the Sandbar

The sun is two hours from setting. The gulf water at the sandbar is light blue and the evening sun sprinkles diamonds across the surface. One sandy path cuts through the long walk to the beach that is filled with wild plants native to beach. I search the crowd of small flowers, wiry grasses and sea grapes. A small wildflower catches my eye, its pods are soft and the color of lips. Like small bells they swing lightly in the breeze. The ocean breeze causes the thick, unstructured dune flowers to bend eastward. One lone black skimmer soars across the musical field. I could stay here all night.

The crickets begin to chirp at the coming of night. I want to shake my sandy towel clean and lay down in my bathing suit to be lulled to sleep by waves and wind. Suddenly the small tent seems like too much shelter. I don’t want to close myself in. I don’t want to stop feeling the current of my blood like the flow of the water. I don’t want to wash the saltiness off my body.