A Lemonade Day

I spent a lemonade day at Cannon Beach last February.

Avery was there with her soft, fluffy curls.

Claire was there with her short, silky locks.

Dustin was there – the only one with properly combed hair.

The sandy beach stretched before us, its blank canvas calling to us just like a clean magna-doodle cries out for Claire and Avery to scribble. We each ventured forward to make our mark. Dustin led out with a steady stride. He left an accurate map to follow with his evenly weighted footprints. 

Claire swept lightly across the matted sand leaving paintbrush-like strokes in her dancing shadow. 

Avery explored on tiptoe with a staccato rhythm close behind. Up, down, up, down. Her fluffy hair bounced and waved, glowing in the light. Her footprints were more like miniature hoof prints spaced only inches apart. I was last in the trickling line. I drank in the sweetness slowly. I paced myself so I could savor each second, tasting each part of the eternally unique afternoon recipe, which was this:

Add one bright sun to a clear breeze. Blend smoothly with the open sky, bright colors, and fuzzy curls into a flawlessly flavored lemonade day. 

For anyone else wishing they could see the ocean today. Cheers!