Summer at the Shore

Summer is the season that forgets to end on time— it lingers at the shore like a guest who loves your house more than you do. The ocean doesn't care what month it is. It sends the same blue answer to every question: come in, come in, the water's always the temperature of forgetting. Children build kingdoms that the tide will take by dinner— and isn't that the lesson: build anyway, even knowing. The sun is generous and cruel in equal measure— it gives you the whole sky then burns what it touches longest. I have spent every summer since childhood trying to stay in that one afternoon where the sand was warm, the sea was kind, and no one had anywhere to be except here, except now, except together.