Quieter than usual, we moseyed on wards towards the shoreline. The familiar feel of sand in between the soles of my feet and the warn-in flip-flops guided me mindlessly to the usual spot.
Same beach, same waves, yet one cannot ignore the calming silence of the once child-giggling, play splashing noises that formally filled the air of the exact stretch of sand in June.
The kids are back in school, lifeguards included. Those who are left are the occasional kayaker and recreational sunbather.
Looking at the remaining buoys no longer attached to boats I think to myself. I pay more attention to the sounds of lapping waves, the sand’s pattern underneath the clear and undisturbed water, along with the ever extending shadows of the trees since July.
This season, there is no choice but to pay closer attention to the color of seagrass and the clinking of sails against their mast. After all, summer cannot last, not even for the wave chasers and the late night CapeCod drinkers.
For now, I look forward to the bursting reds and oranges that the Maple will display in a week or so. Until then you can find me at the beach, trying to memorize every last note of summer. Not only the exciting possibilities that June cheerfully flaunted, but the goodbyes to the season as well.