Beach blues

After days and days of sunshine we wake to sky grey sky. The first fall of overcast comes on the day we set aside for the beach. We shake our heads, slip sweaters inside our bags; refuse to change our plans.

Point the car away from the city and drive until we hit the fields. A tunnel of trees leads to a parking lot, all resilient and full. The locals are out in full force: bad tattoos and bud light lime.

It’s warm enough to read in bathing suits, still too cold to swim. James Joyce and Coco Puffs, we turn pages and explore the shore. Snap pictures of rows of kayaks, airborne kites, and other people’s kids.

After watching a ketchup and mustard fight we decide we feel like fries. It’s off to the pier to a patio biker joint. Follow with a full supper in the suburbs and metro back downtown.