The house we rented for the week has a deep covered front porch with white wicker furniture. We are about a block in from the ocean. Even though we don’t have a beach view, we are on a peaceful street with only the occasional walker or jogger passing by. The bushes and shrubbery planted along the front of the deck are mature and provide some privacy. The perfect retreat in which to nap, drool, and dream.
We arrived yesterday in a driving rain storm which lasted all night and into the early morning.
But, then, as is typical on an island, the wind changed direction chasing the clouds the other way. The rain suddenly stopped and the sky transformed in an instant from dusky gray to brilliant blue.
I made a pact with myself to walk three miles every day while I am here. I was pleasantly surprised when my granddaughter, Bella, agreed to accompany me this morning.
Bella is a gangly 11 year old. We definitely were not on the same stride. It was three of my short legged steps to a single lanky one of hers.
Four of my other grandchildren are also here with us. Four boys. Two seven year olds, one six year old and a barely two year old.
The three boys were playing paddle ball on the beach this afternoon. Ryan got a little too close to the paddle. He is nursing a fat lip. Poor kid.
It was breezy down by the water. The ocean was rough. Probably remnants from the storm. As the waves broke on the shore, the wind carried shoots of mist high into the air swirling them around like mini tornados. The life guards called out to the swimmers with their shrill whistles, waving them into shore. The tide has changed, they warned. It was not safe for anyone to go out as far as they had been.
It’s quiet now. Their parents have taken the kids to the boardwalk.
The day is winding down.