I guess you could say I am a beach baby. Since I was 6 months old I have spent part of every Spring, Summer, and Fall at the beach. Listening to the waves lap against the shore, and feeling the sun soak into my bones. I just knew from a very early age that the beach, the ocean was my home.
I was a bit of a fish, really. My mother was concerned that I would swim away over my head and had a rope on me until she was certain of my abilities. Those came from swimming lessons at Surf Drive Beach, come rain or shine, thick fog or freezing cold water temperatures. I did not care. The ocean was in my blood!
Over the years, I have been many places where I felt that same kismet! One such place was Barbados, where the ocean also called my name. This is actually a full-scale picture I am cropping, but I told Jack when I die I want this picture published with my obituary! Even if I am 90!
I was 29 years old in this picture, and for once in my life skinny! And I remember how much I loved that bikini.
I’m at the beach now. Somewhere. It’s warm and I am happy. Solitary happiness on the beach. My idea of a grand vacation.