We arrived in Georgia close to 3pm. Contrary to the weather reports we'd studied prior to our departure, the sun was shining, the air was warm and not too terribly humid, and not a drop of water lay on the roads or the leaves to betray any rain that may have fallen at all that day. Because none had. And none did.
Afternoons at the seaside in the south are funny things...violent storms can blow in from over the ocean with only moments of notice, torrential downpours, strong winds, and then...as fast as they engulf you...they are gone, wet remnants evaporating rapidly with the sun's rays that have returned with a hot vengeance. And, on some days, there is nothing but sunshine and happiness.
We definitely had one of those sunshine and happiness kinds of weeks.
On the day we arrived, Samantha and I decided to take full advantage of that afternoon sunshine and pay a visit to the beach we'd traveled so far to see. Don't put your bathing suit on I told her. We'll just sit on the beach, and walk along the shoreline, but we're *not* going to go in, okay? Just a *quick* visit...
She was okay with that.
Not only are afternoons at the seaside in the south funny things, but the beach is a funny thing. Give me 90+ degrees and a body of water, and the pull is almost too great to resist...it's like a magnet, or a siren, calling me to its depths. And apparently not just for me. While I say that I got suckered by Samantha that day, I know, deep down, and admit only here, that our actions were as much to do with my own desire as they were to do with hers.
Dress/skirt & t-shirt and all, in we went, starting at our ankles, then propelled forward by the call...by the warm, bath-like water that embraced us, that promised to give relief to the oven that the air above us had suddenly become.
Fully-clothed, in we went, the joy on our faces as we splashed mirrored by those that saw us, that fully-appreciated our would-be-folly, evident in the giggles and smiles of others who secretly wished they could be so care-free, to live in the moment as we ourselves were doing. Dripping, squeezing out our skirts, we emerged from the water like beautiful sea creatures and found a place on the sand to complete the scene.
I have spoken of creating those moments for Samantha, moments of spontaneity, moments that would be remembered. And I have to remember myself that I must work to create them, that I must throw caution (or, at least, cleanliness and routine) to the wind and allow them to happen.
I hope she remembers this.