The family climbed up the steep dune, which muffled all but a muted bellow of waves. Finally, they crested the rise where cloud-clad sun, gulls, and a broad seascape lay before them.
Spectacularly, a giant rock dominated the view, hulking and mysterious in the late afternoon light, with sea birds swirling and landing in its crags.
Hats blew off their heads and the breeze ruffled their hair. They removed their shoes and let the fine cool sand squish up between their toes. No one else was on the beach. It seemed to have been waiting just for them, displaying the most brilliant, jeweled sea.
Soon, it was time to go back to the beach house for dinner. Bags of groceries from the local market sat on the tiny kitchen counters, and they had yet to unpack their luggage. They had plans for pasta primavera with hot French bread and wine for the adults. And there were games to play.
Blair, the youngest one, said they must all come right back out after dinner. They had come here for the beach, hadn’t they?
“There will be time,” her mother said. “We’ll be here for three days of fun and beach play.”
But Blair insisted they had to come back out again when dinner and dishes were done. And so they climbed the dune again as dusk fell and the gulls scurried to their evening roosts. The rock was even more mysterious and majestic by evening light. They strolled the beach with huge gray storm clouds gathering. “I’m ready to go back now,” Blair said.
That night a rain storm thrummed on the roof of the beach house like millions of tiny clapping elves.
Everyone in the morning reported all manner of odd dreams–about goblins, unsolved mysteries, and people who stepped out into the night for a smoke and were never seen again. Over coffee and cocoa and syrupy pancakes they talked about their dreams, wiping their eyes to be rid of them.
“The rain stopped!” Blair said. “Let’s go see if the storm washed up treasures from the sea.”
But when they crested the dune to face the ocean, the sky was clear and bright, the rock’s mysteries were hidden away, and the beach was washed clean.
They spent that day hiking, tidepooling and picnicking, then took a trip into the little village to buy polished shells, souvenirs, and saltwater taffy. Blair looked for the perfect souvenir, but she did not see anything she liked.
That evening everyone was too tired to go to the beach, except for Blair who insisted they she must make one more trip to the beach to watch the sunset.
Her mother agreed. “Okay, baby, let’s go. It will be pretty this time of day.” And indeed, when they arrived at the beach, the setting sun’s pink and orange glow illuminated the waves, and the rock was again cloaked in mystery. There wasn’t another soul on the beach. Blair waded into the edge of the surf, the cold water chilling her skin. And then she found it. The perfect souvenir–a piece of deep blue beach glass, polished in the shape of a dolphin.
Thank you for reading!
I wrote this short story for #beachWednesday. It is illustrated with pictures I took on a family beach trip in June, 2017 in Oregon. The rock pictured is just one of the “haystack rocks” on the Pacific coast. What I loved about this rock was the way it seemed to change personality with the changing light and weather.
