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The seaweed is always greener.

Near the ocean, a little birdy scampers his birdy scamper across the sand, freshly dimpled with raindrops. His buddies have moved on down the beach, congregating for snack time with toddler girls adorably beautiful in their bikinis. Further still, some teenaged girls are dangerously beautiful in theirs. A young mother wades carefully out into the calm water with her baby boy propped on her hip. He likes the water but not when she puts him down.

The water is so calm, I can hear my beautiful daughter call to me from the waves. She and her lovin' man are enjoying one another on this beach day.

I am safely tucked away on the shore beneath two umbrellas, a slathering of 50spf and what once took the form of a cowboy hat now misshapen in an effort to protect my eyes, ears and nose from this Florida sunshine. It's lovely reflecting on the waves but harsh to freckle and burn fair skin.

A man child, ever increasing in stature, digs a hole next to me. This is his beach time specialty. That and sandy sculptures. His sculpture inspires me to consider the world view of island people, consistently exposed to such inspiration. They ain't like us land dwellers with our miles of asphalt and places to be. The longer we are here, the more my priorities shift to free and easy living. As of Day Three, the children have ceased bathing in anything other than the ocean and I have ceased to care. I may even be getting used to sand in the bedsheets and flipflops lining the wall of the carport.

I do, however, take issue with unbrushed teeth.

My beautiful daughter writes in her diary that her lifetime dream is to live at the ocean. Good thing Lovin' Man has taken to fishing so, in the event her dreams come true, he can be our hunter/gatherer. He brought a fish, suffocating and white, back to the house and commenced frying.
Horror.

Maybe, I'll stick with city livin'.

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