13 and counting

i'll gather you all together and then we'll make our way down the wooden steps that have been in place since the flood. we'll create bases and switch places with those ready to play once we're ready to watch. there will be name calling & taunting because it's expected and blessed. the sun will go down and the moon will come up and we'll finally run in for dinner. smiling as we eat ribs because happiness is meeting us in aptos.

our days will be filled with a constant pot of coffee and trading magazines in the sand. we'll make a impressive line of bikinis and coronas and sooner or later we all get up enough courage to swim in the sandy liquid that calls our name. curse words will be carried on our lips as we try to brace for the cold. we'll stand there laughing. because of the high-pitched screams from the boys.

dark will come again and we'll greet him with our bonfire and sticky faces. ghost stories will be shared and we all know the ending because they were told the year before. the white witch of niles always steals the night. always. we'll make our way in and snuggle in sandy beds as we listen to the yelling of the sandy liquid. we'll return in the morning.

we'll walk on boardwalks and thank our elders for the tickets. like a child we'll run. everywhere. and stand in line for the faithful 3. i'll try to convince others that the haunted house is still fun but we'll have empty pockets by that hour. so we'll make our way to the car and sit in traffic hoping that we'll get home in time to run into the surf. we wont. & thats ok.

this year there will be another one gracing us with her presence. last year she was our berry and this year our baby. this tradition starts for her. and i wonder if it will ever end.