#127
I buy a case of Pellegrino and bring a bottle to the beach each day for relief. Down the sand, a man in a thong. Unusual here.
Next to me a couple and their husky lay under the sun and drink while an old-timey playlist emerges from their speaker. The wind is west-northwest and the sun is sharp but it’s so cool out that after swimming I need a sweatshirt and then it’s just perfect.
The dog sleeps on the blue beach towel you got me in Turkey. His nose, sandy, his fur fluffed from salt and wind.
We’re close to the border here, so along with ice creams you can find elote being sold from small carts along the beach. Visa, Mastercard, Venmo, all accepted.
Later, the tide is receding into the west along with the sun and the shallows are perfect for running around, playing, and meeting new folks with their old and young pooches. The conversations are always pleasant. The day, never ending, in the best way possible. After we pack up the sandy towels, the umbrella, the chair. After I pick up the ball and the new stick the dog found, we head back, dragging our heels. I think I’m walking slowly, but the tiredness isn’t just people but the dogs too, who walk dreaming of a bowl of food and a bed to rest on all evening, until that last potty break outside. At the apartment, I drop everything, pour a glass of wine from the fridge, and let the last of the chips fall into a bowl while the dog laps cold water from his. This evening, a quick shower before heading to dinner. The dog will be resigned to the house, but he’s fine with it because it’s been a good day, a great day, the very best day.