Vacation

A Story by Darci Jordan

Was complaining that I suck at writing and then came up with this, which I am very pleased with. And I have no idea what kind of genre this falls under.

Something I am missing about being on vacation is… the air. That distinct smell of the ocean, that if you don’t know where you are and you get out of the car with eyes closed and take a deep breath, you know where you are just by inhaling the breeze. The waves rolling in and then crashing onto the shore, embracing the sand as if joyful to be reunited by the forceful tides once again. The soft, tickly sensation of the sand caressing and cocooning your feet as you take long strides down the beach, looking into the sky and watching the seagulls turn into dark shadows as they take flight towards the sunsetting sky. Staring at the sky, beholding the horizon that appears to be ablaze with its fiery oranges and reds. The night before they were colors of lilac purple and magenta pink, and you are amazed by how those colors vary, how it seems that God paints His canvas with a different palette every so often. The sound of laughter composed by children building sandcastles while their parents watch hand in hand, smiling as they watch their little ones having the time of their life; seeing them happy makes them even happier. The gasp you take when you are belly deep in the chilling water, and the courage you build up to fully submerge yourself in it. The salty taste of the ocean that drips down your face and into your mouth unwillingly; you try to avoid that unpalatable saliferous taste.

I miss the smell of the condo, how the chlorine from the pool wafts into the lobby as you make your way onto the elevator. Showering off the gritty sand that clung to your body from your beach adventure and then getting ready to go out for dinner. Walking down the palm tree lined boulevard down to your favorite restaurant, The Shrimp Basket. Ordering your favorite appetizer and then regretting it because you forgot how spicy they were. All of the condos that go on for miles and miles down that single street, and admiring the one called Turquoise, imagining what it would be like to vacate there instead of the one you are staying in, but shrugging it off because hello! you are in Florida, and that’s blissful enough for you. Shopping at your favorite store, Surf Style, and then driving to Alabama to eat at Lamberts. I miss it all.