Objects may be closer than they appear

It was a beautiful Spring day. The beach was soft in the April light and too cold for students from a nearby college to shed much more than their cares. We had come from Germany via Oregon (-20 to 50 and back while we visited) and the sun and the beach were wonderous. Our first purchase was shovels and pails for master class worthy sand castle building. In the picture Issac is perched on a quickly crumbling fortress. A smile lights his face. Justine is off to the side, digging away.

During the three years we lived along the Bay of Gaeta about a third (or more) of that time was spent at the beach. The summers were long, some days we arrived as the sun was rising, staying until lunch, or if we brought lunch until midafternoon. We lived close and carried everything we needed in two beach bags: towels, toys, sunscreen and two light umbrellas. Beach attire was swim suits, shorts and T-shirts. Sunscreen was slathered on at home and then again after the first dip in the water, T-shirts and hats went back on around 9:00; there were plenty of breaks under the umbrellas. If we went home for lunch there was a total beach wash off. Sometimes we went back to the beach in the late afternoon and watched fishermen row back in, or couples taking a light walk after riposo (Italian siesta) before heading back to work for a few hours. Afternoons we rarely swam, but walked and searched for shells and good driftwood. Or launched a boat that had been worked on for weeks: a box with bottles and tape, lots and lots of tape.

 

 Was this paradise? It was one.