The Beach

It was a Saturday,

a normal Saturday.

One where you wake at six,

by your rather annoying brother.

And everything was normal

until Dad said,

“Pack your bags,

we’re going to the beach.”

Grab the towels,

Umbrella,

Sunglasses,

then a whole lotta snacks,

throw on some shorts

and grab the hat.

Bring the swimming gear

the shovels too

add a bit of this and that

then cram it in the car.

You’re ready!

Forward!

On an expedition to the beach, we go!

Endure the hour-long drive

and cross a bridge or two,

one mountain range later

a familiar scent comes:

The salty smell of the sea.

You’re here!

Drag everything you brought along and pick a spot

set up the net and take a shot.

Or dig a hole and bury your friends,

but this one I don’t recommend.

For you’ll probably end up with a war

coated with coarse sand and salty water

and when the day ends,

only then will you truce

with your partner.

When the parents are done with the photos

of you and the sunset

you drag yourself into the car.

Back over the mountain roads

and the bridges again

an hour or so later

you see a familiar sight:

Home.

You go in the door all tuckered out

all dead

collapse on the couch

and smile

wishing that you’d go again.