Beach Days:

Beach Days:
Running across the sand. The searing powder stretches out before me. Surely I am bleeding by now. I must reach the cool waves and quench this pain.
"Stop!" She yells. "Sunscreen!"
How can I stop? I can't go back, I'll lose my feet! I see the sea and feel this baking pain. From one foot to the other each sizzling in the sand. I imagine turning back on bloody nubs, my feet left behind like that broken bottle or that dead crab.
"Sunscreen!" She calls again.
I think I will die. The cool waves lapping, children laughing, my feet burning.
She's threatening now.
I know I'll lose my snow cone later. oh, how she tortures!

Owa! Its in my eyes! The stinging cream runny on my sweaty forehead. She slathers the coconut-y goo in my ears and down my neck. I love the smell of it. It smells like her and swimming lessons and picnics. It smells like heat and childhood.
"Aaand done."
Those magic words, the shot from the gate. Across the fiery, gravely beast and into the salty sea. Splashing, jumping, falling, waves knocking be to and fro. The cool water stings in every cut and shrivels my lips.
In the car going home I am a salty prune with sand in every crevice. Sitting on a towel, the radio humming me to sleep. She carries me and her voice is just a mummer.
Just another long summer day.