The first week back from a vacation needs to be eased-into, and this is my easing-in week. I'm still on island time, and returning to reality is a challenge.
Last week was lovely. I walked along the beach for three nights in a row under a luminously full moon which lit the water and made me weepy, lazed in a hammock after a glass of wine in the evening, took my children to the beach one night and ran wild and dancing together along the deserted shore, and swam in the ocean. I love ducking under a wave as it comes crashing down on me. Every time I go to the beach I tell myself that I will not swim in the ocean, as I imagine all the perils that await me (rip currents! jellyfish! sharks! sting rays!). Every time I cannot resist the siren song of the sea. I awaken from the comfortable slumber of my careful, risk-averse life and find myself doing the backstroke in the Atlantic. It never fails. (As it turns out, my husband *did* see two large sting rays, but all's well that ends well, as Ma Ingalls says.)
Tonight I treated myself to a bottle of Simpatico No. 72 Ambergris bubble bath. I realized I had to buy it when I kept returning to the bar soap and breathing it in. "Oh, I could swim in this," I thought. And then I saw the bubble bath and realized that yes, I could swim in this! The scent reminds me of something from my childhood that I cannot place; it is musky and dark, yet clean and heady. I am smitten.
I still have one foot at the beach and one foot here at home. I think after a few more ambergris bubble baths the transition will be complete, and summer can officially begin.
Those moonlit nights sound magical - I would love to go to the beach in the USA. For some reason it seems more romantic than going to the beach in England. Perhaps it's the rather corny seaside town culture from the middle of the last century...
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