The towering palm trees dance with the wind, basking in the sun. The parking lot is full, spilling over with cars and families and couples. I take off my shoes to feel the earth make room for my feet and I long to hold his hand. He is tall, like the palm trees, and sweet like coconut water. He takes off his sandals too, and smiles at me as wide as the Pacific Ocean in front of us.
Kids play, building castles out of damp sand. We walk further down the beach, finding the ideal spot to set down our brightly colored towels, splattered with pinks and blues. We remove our sandwiches from the wicker basket, anticipating the savory taste of meat and bread.
Sitting down, I look out at the sparkling sea. Turquoise, bright and incomparably deep. I crave it’s waves’ embrace as they arch back and forth, beckoning, as if to invite me inside.
As I lie down next to him, floating in the sand, I still long to hold his hand. The sun is beating down on us, but it is not uncomfortable. The heat is balanced by the breeze and the sound of the ocean, the young boys and girls voices bubbling with laughter, and the tropical birds singing in harmony. My longing for his touch has not abated; however, his closeness and the smell of sunscreen and saltwater will suffice for now.