Lewes Beach, Delaware. Mid-Atlantic beaches are so weird. There's never any waves. When the kids next to us with boogie boards were screaming, "Here comes a brutal wave!" the California girl in me was horrified. They have no idea how deprived they are. You couldn't even drown in them if you tried! What happened to the days of kids getting pummeled by waves and getting stuck underwater not knowing which way was up until you surfaced and had sand in every facial orifice, a pint of water up your nose, and thus developed a healthy respect for the waves and the ocean and what they were ultimately capable of?
At that very moment I made a silent promise that my child must not be fooled into thinking that bumps in the water are waves just because he is growing up here. If I have my way, San Clemente will be the first beach he visits.
And I'm not even finished! The jellyfish don't have tentacles and apparently don't sting (although I wasn't taking any chances), and there's huge horeshoe crabs that just wash up on the shore! What the heck?! Someday I am going to try a beach further south like North Carolina and see if that's any closer to what I have known of beaches. Of course, as I admitted to Andy, it's entirely possible that I am a beach snob. And quite honestly, I am okay with that.
No comments:
Post a Comment