After many years of living in this lovely city, I have finally learned to love the beach. I’m from the Mountains originally, and I prefer freshwater rivers and lakes to the salty sea. No matter how hard you try, sand gets EVERYWHERE and when you come out of the ocean you are covered in a film of salt. Whereas if you go for a swim in the river, you emerge feeling crisp and clean. But, as I said, I have learned to love the beach, for which my husband is very grateful.
Chris was born in England, but for all intensive purposes he is an American. He grew up here and besides the fact that he calls the hose a “hose pipe” there are few traces of his homeland etched into his persona. He loves the beach and would gladly spend every minute of the weekend hanging out there.
Growing up in a beach community, I’m sure Emmett will become a beach lover as well. I imagine he might even take up surfing, or that fun new sport where you stand on the surfboard and paddle. But for all his many months (6), we had never taken him to the beach and put his feet in the water. It just seems like such a production to me, too much equipment needed, too much stress. Better to just go downtown and buy some new clothes.
But last weekend, Chris finally wore me down and we threw a blanket in the car and headed to the beach. I’m glad we did, because, aside from one minor bee incident, we had such a nice time and it was so fun introducing Emmett to the waves.