Sunlight fell like glitter upon them, and as Amelia closed her eyes to the bright light that nearly blinded her on that beach, celebrating the end of Winter and almost-Spring, rejoicing in the feel of sand beneath her toes, fingers slipping through her own, and the roar and crash of waves that left tingling surges trailing up from her toes whenever she stepped into the waves. It was soothing, despite the harsh power of the rays of sunlight, soothing despite how tired and lazy, she felt from long hours balancing jobs and paperwork, going from home to a classroom, wondering if this would always be the end of it, the sheer most that she could accomplish.
Toris's fingers tightened around hers, and she forgot the jump-skip of her heartbeat, under the magic of the waves that soothed her ears, the crunch of shells underneath someone else's feet, possibly mischievous kids playing in the surf, and the magical atmosphere that beaches produced aplenty. Sometimes Winter felt packed on and stacked up, and you had to get away to feel the magic of the warmth of the sun, the magic of just cool enough waves against blue painted toes, the rush of heartbeats that felt dulled from the Winter conundrums that always seemed to haunt busy years.
Her blue eyes opened, and she found herself breathless under the awe of the beauty of Summer. The waves shone so blue under the harsh ferocity of the sun, the sand left bare and delicate in sweet brown, the warm array of seagulls flying not too far off, and kids bouncing among the waves as if finally something in the atmosphere clicked for them that did not click for the rest of us. She's not sure if the magic is in how delicate and alive everything looks as it builds on top of each other, and it's power is likewise displayed. Amelia's not sure if the magic is in the air that feels so devoid of stress and full of heartfelt joy, as people rush from busy lives for sunshine and warm beaches. She's not even sure if somehow it's held in Toris's hand in her own, or the beating heat of the sun.
Everything is magical, and nothing at all. It's the moment that gets eaten up in many other moments of simple but usual joy for the people that find themselves drawn again and again to this beach throughout the year, and those that come here every year around this time as an escape from colder winters and shorter days, where everything stretches into something seemingly better than the next through the gentle laps of the sea.
"Toris, can we play in the water?" It's a weird question, but Amelia didn't give herself time to consider how to ask it or if she should. She wanted the cool of water held in waves to wash over her like liquid magic or like rebirth. Amelia wanted to feel like a jellyfish, like a sea sponge, like part of the coral reef, or like a shark somehow traveling through the waves and out to sea. She wanted what was human to melt away into what is nature, and for what hurts to dissolve into a kind of open care that no longer clings to the pains and the stresses of reality, but instead clings to the steady joys that are there when you search for them.
"I guess." He barely shucks out of his nicer top, not bothering to ditch anything other than that and the shoes on his feet. Amelia's already wiggling out of a tank top that somehow feels stifling in the heat and stepping out of flipflops and jean shorts in easy fell swoops, and she smiles. Somehow, the sun seems to sing to her, the air abuzz with distant bird calls and the gentleness of nature at its best. Something in the air is more alive than Amelia can even credit life with.
She loves it, and soon, she's pulling her boyfriend into the waves, frolicking past harder waves to softer ones, swimming past small remnants of water for slightly deeper sections, getting into a splashing contest with some kids and with her boyfriend. Something magic and unifying doesn't bother to stifle itself in the air, but grows like warm love on a hot Summer afternoon, and she can't wait for how the hours stretch on with a kind of distant joy that seems unbendable, unbreakable, and somehow seems as attached to the sunshine as to the skin that nearly boils under the heat.
The splash games are won by an eight year old, before Amelia drifts further out, hand once again intertwined around her boyfriend's, as they look out at the sea, counting the distant shapes of could be ships, and the magic that water cools skin under the blazing sun, that somehow hot air will become something not so hot, as the ocean is deserted and clothes are piled on once again.
Somehow the intoxicating visit leaves her sleepy and nearly drowsy in the sun. "I love you," and its as familiar as every break and eager pant of the ocean, as every ray of sun hits skin and warms bodies eager for warmth that knew of only Winter before this, and she wonders if it's become too easy after the long ago break of nerves. Amelia smiles; even if it is too easy, it's perfectly them. Five years visiting this sea together when the sun makes it feel hot, when children play with families, both used to the sea and the ones that are not, where couples gaze into eyes and get lost again, and where friends count the joys of the Summer before classes start back up again in the Fall. This is the ocean, and this is the South, that sometimes becomes a distant memory when she lets herself be pulled to the North again like some weird tug-of-war game that she is just as tied to as no one would ever expect.
This is her country somehow, and from the tips and the edges, it is beautiful. One day, she vows to vacation North, but she knows that she only will once she lives in the South again and gets used to Spring visits to the beach almost every weekend, used to boardwalk strolls, used to eating grits in the morning and savoring fried chicken at night, used to gorgeous Southern sunsets, and the beauty of the Southern lilt. She'd become so used to it, that the North feels like a pleasant vacation from large cities to smaller ones, from country sides that roll to ones that are flat. Amelia already can imagine it and dream in a distant kind of color. She has to tell herself that her home is up North now, and that's why the colors and the images, the sounds and the flutters are as familiar to her as dreaming.
Toris drifts with her, and for a moment it seems that they are only connected by hands and that nothing binds them as much as two hands connected do, even though she knows that their hearts bind and hold them close. "I love you too." His response is as soft and loving as the ocean's waves, and she admires how his voice can be both clear and warm, real and alive, and full of sweet gentleness and slow decadence. She doesn't pause to consider it for long, because to do so would drift them farther apart in a moment.
She squeezes his hand tighter, and she counts this vacation as both a holiday, a break from the taxing routine, and a sort of connecting joy that encompasses all that held and captured them before that quickly becomes so much more. Amelia doesn't ever dream of letting go, and though they can't hold hands every moment, she almost wishes that they could as she imagines a permanent connection.
Eyes droop and are tired, as the warm air, the cool enough water, and the semi-distant crashing of waves against the shoreline hit their ears, and somehow this is another kind of magic, the soft lullaby of nature that soothes eyes closed and makes hearts dance in a steady tempo. Amelia doesn't doubt that holding hands in the ocean and nealry falling asleep is a kind of joy that others should experience more often, but she also doesn't pause to consider that many have not felt this happy and content. Either way, when the thought will occur to her, she'll wish them to experience it and send a little prayer out to them as the ocean drifts around them, and she tries to not drift asleep from its soothing voice that composes lyrics to a song that she can't quite understand but definitely can feel.