The sun was setting when I left work Tuesday, and to the south an early moon hung in the blue and rose colored sky. The humidity was so heavy you could see it and almost taste it. This is the sort of summer I remember from growing up and those summers when school was just a threat over a month away.
But tonight, it reminded me of the beach. Bethany Beach, Delaware, specifically. Early in our relationship, Wife's family always rented a beachside house for a couple of weeks during the summer, usually in late June. It had to be beachside, as Wife's grandmother wanted to be near enough to hear the ocean, even though she never went down to the beach itself. The sound was enough.
Most nights after dinner, Wife, her brothers, and whatever cousins or friends were along, would walk on the beach about a mile to the Bethany boardwalk. We'd usually get ice cream and play miniature golf at the most ancient yet challenging place, and it only cost fifty cents! It's long gone now, replaced by a restaurant.
Still, it's those memories that relationships are built upon. I loved those walks. I loved those evenings. I could usually only stay a few days or a week, as I had to work, but those were wonderful times. I think about them on evenings like this as the bright early moon presides over the sultry sky. I miss them. I miss the days of being happy and with Wife.
The next morning I learned that some of the haze was due to smoke from the west coast wild fires. So much for wistfulness.