once
we got up early on a saturday morning in july, packed the car with suitcases and coolers, floats and and cheap beach chairs, drove ten hours south, down through the state of georgia, through the middle of the state of florida, past billboards advertising gun shops and shooting ranges, end times and alligator souvenir spots, drove until we were nothing but a car full of tired. drove until we hit that little stretch of beach that is not ours but feels like it is.
we drove until we saw the signs for the place with the condo that belongs to the friend of a friend who is kind enough to let two families squeeze into it for one week, free of charge. we pulled in, scrambled to unload things, shimmied into suits, made a beeline.
by sunset, we were in the ocean. warm as bath water, soft lavender sky. another continent, really-- an altogether different planet.
