The storm gathered strength thoughout the day, almost as if everyone who cowered from it, fed it. Wind sliced the rain into sidelong glances that cut smarter than any dead stare. For an east coast summer night it was darn right cool.
It was the child who said, "Lets go outside and get wet. Can we, can we?" The beach had been there for three days. Not a one of us had yet been wet. But there was an undercurrent of youthful energy that seemed to say the milk has already been spilt, so we may as well play in it. I thought to decline. It was cold. My hair looks shitty wet. My clothes would stick to my body, which at my age is nothing to advertise. But Annabelle was tugging at my shirt hem and she wanted to play. I really had no worthy excuse that would appease her, so we all nodded what-the-hell and headed for the beach.
The sand was wet, and easy to run on. I ran fast, hard, spending all. I ran into the waves, back out, in again. We shouted stupid stuff and sang stupid songs and all the "stupid" in me had a brilliant time! It was the highlight of my vacation. "I want to get a picture of this" I said. We knocked on a door and a kindred spirit stood in the rain and captured us trying to look woebegone...
It didn't work.
I think I'm going to do more stupid stuff.
People outta be stupid more often.