Sun streams behind me, reflecting off the glistening waves.
Seagulls soar above, past the dull, green sea grass keeping the sand in its place.
Wind rushes through me, throwing the rough sand in my face, hair pushing its way into my mouth.

I hear the crash of the waves as I walk along its foamy shore, small shells and grains of sand crunching and grinding under my feet.
A boy’s bright red jacket peers into the corner of my vision as it rushes to the side of a soccer ball.

The sand warms my feet as I dig them into the soft ground, feeling the planks of the faded brown, wood swing.
The silver chains above me link together as one, clinking together while I rock back and forth, back and forth.
I focus on the peaceful rustling of the dunes long grass, tips kissing the sun, touching each other, rustling in the strong wind. The muffled conversation of many people surrounds me.

Click.
The flash of a digital camera captures memories of our huddled group, listening to our tour guide talk of rubbery dolphins and soggy marshes.
I hear the caw of the seagulls above me, closing in on the sun.
Click.
Another captured memory

How many people have sat in the same place as I? Rocking, listening to the whoosh of the wind, the crash of the waves, feeling the rough surface of the planks of wood under them, engaging in quiet conversation about the serenity of this beach.

At this moment, all that matters is the peaceful waves, crunching sand and rustling sea grass around me as I,
Swing
Swing
Swing