It's become a tradition, two siblings and their families meeting for one last summer frolic. We meet in the middle, in the state between our two homes. We line the kids up, noticing the growth spurts and hair cuts, the new faces they make now for the camera. We spend long days at the beach, reading and digging in the sand and inching out into the water as far as our frozen feet will let us.
We play piles of board games, we play guitar, we settle into this borrowed home in these last days. Gotta bottle it up and make it last, gotta hold summer in your palm like one more fragile sand dollar. Until it's time to fold it all up, shake the sand out, and head back where things are waiting. Routines and lunch boxes. New teachers and closed toe shoes.
And that daydream- of a beach house, and a few extra days, and the last taste of the season.