Saturday, September 30, 1933

The end of the summer. Another one gone. Like the sun setting on a long day.

I’m meeting a client Monday, so I had the weekend off. The first time in a while it seems.

I went down to the water and walked the boardwalk near Ocean Beach. I’m not what one would call a man of nature, but I must admit this stretch has always been a place I can find a bit of peace. I walked along slowly, parallel to the beach, puffing a cigarette with my jacket tossed over my arm. The sun was disappearing and lit the underbellies of the clouds in an orange shade. Beach-goers were beginning to gather their baskets and children to head back home.

My oxfords clacked as I walked on the sandy, concrete pavement. The warm breeze coming over the water brought with it a smell of salt and the weather felt just perfect. I looked around at all the people there. The swimmers, the sunbathers, the families and their dogs. Children proudly finishing the sandcastles they had built, or running and swimming around in the shallow water. All with smiles and laughter gotten from a jaunty day. But that was over now, just like the summer. The freedom, the revelry… all starting to end with that setting sun.

Summer always turns into fall.

I stopped and faced the ocean as I took one last draw from my cigarette. The breeze caught my tie and sent the tip over my left shoulder. This summer went by fast. Too fast. Like today at the beach it went by too quickly.

I watched the last bit of sun slip under the horizon. Seagulls overhead called as I dropped my cigarette on the ground and snubbed it out with the heel of my shoe. I looked once more out at the beach and then turned back towards my car.

Away from the summer and into the fall.

 

 

Original photo by Natalie Chaney on Unsplash

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