The Summer Ritual of a Swim in the Sea

Sailboats dotted the water while we splashed.

Poor Sis got a fever and cold. We hung around and I tried to help, making mugs of tea w honey, picking up tissues she weakly tossed to the floor, etc. 

Punch wished we could stay another night, but her Harry Potter day camp--Magic for Muggles--starts tomorrow at 9 a.m. in Montclair. Besides, Sis needed to rest and H. arrived home tonite.

We lolled around a lot of the day, playing school nurse, beauty spa and hide and seek. Punch groomed Sis's dog, Buttercup, setting up her little faux leopard plush mat and even brushing her teeth. I napped twice--Punch had woken up at an ungodly hour before 6 a.m. While I napped, she played with my phone, watching a show and using Musical.ly and Snapchat. I finally convinced her to walk to very close West Beach with me near 4:30 p.m.

How many times are we staying somewhere with a beach so close you can walk to it? I said. One day, when you're old, you're going to look back and remember me trying to get you to walk to the beach. 

So she popped on her swimsuit from Mom and the white terry cloth beach dress with lavender pompon trim on the hemline [by Elizabeth Hurley--a splurge I got for her March birthday]. And in she ran to the Long Island Sound. The tide was very low so we had to sit or kneel to get wet. But it felt good. Such a summer ritual, a seasonal thrill, a feeling of freedom and youth. Whether you're 5 or 55, the sea is yours. It's a timeless pleasure that people have enjoyed for ages. But lucky us, no itchy full-cover swimming costumes like our sisters before us wore.

Good night, raft dreams.