By The Sea In September

Join me as I share some memories of September days by the sea.

Even as a child, I always looked forward to September. It was the beginning of the end of summer when the days were still hot, but the nights were pleasantly cool. School, which started in October, still seemed ages away. I had my little band of friends. Our friendship was enough.

Some days, we played hopscotch or hide and seek. On other days, we would go to the seaside, armed with buckets and spades, flip-flops and straw hats. The beaches were almost deserted after Victory Day (September 08), so we had whole stretches of sand to ourselves. It was a glorious time. The sea was always restless, as errant breezes quietly ruffled its surface. There was a peace and a calmness that was only disturbed by the excited giggles of children drunk on the freedom of the last days of summer. We ate our ftira, filled with tomatoes and tuna, basil and mint, and almost made ourselves sick on bunches of sweet Maltese grapes (truly the best in the world).

I remember our beach umbrella, an exuberant 70s concoction of orange, red and white flowers on a bright blue background; the exciting combination of salty skin and sandy toes; the sun, huge and as orange as a pumpkin, lingering on the horizon - just seemingly long enough to dip its toes into the cerulean water that marked the boundaries of our existence.

Only the present was real. The future seemed very far away. It was the best of times - an idyll that would soon be shattered by the relentless march of time - a commodity that we had a surplus of back then.

Those days are long gone. The children have grown, and only the memories remain, memories of golden September days by the sea.

Thanks to Jeanne (again) for the inspiration. And thanks to my parents, for those wonderful days by the sea (and so much else).