Another beach day baking in the sunshine. Seagulls cry out as we roll a cooler with much difficulty through the sand, creating some dual-lined path from the boardwalk to our sitting spot. The sea is calm, it is low tide. Like, the waves are whispering a secret and I just happen to be there to listen. The lifeguard sits stoic in sunglasses, unenthused. No one’s in the water, so it’s just this moving glass masterpiece. The sand burns my pale feet like hot coals. A towel lays on the surface, rough-hewn and also hot. When I come back in from the water, it will not be enough to dry me off. The saltwater air clears my lungs. Jersey Shore on holiday, key to a little R&R. I put the key in the ignition, driving down the Parkway is where the vacation starts. Good music and iced coffee with a bakery or croissant breakfast. Something different, something rich, something new. Something about not wanting to call it a day, to stay out there all night to keep our spot claimed. Depression going home. The sun at my back as I wheel the cooler back to the car. Hoping we haven’t gotten a parking ticket, hoping the meter didn’t run out.