The Girls of Summer

By

Judy Bluhm

They float in taffeta, with pink big skirts, giggling while holding hands. Running wildly in the sand. Heading towards the ocean. No cares or worries about getting dresses dirty or wet. They laugh and squeal as their feet touch the water. They are fairies from another world, another time, a better place. The roar of waves cannot stop the sound of joy and ocean water does not stain the fabric of happiness.

I never took my daughters to the ocean much when they were small. When the grandsons came along, we went to the beach every year, sometimes twice annually. They would focus on building tunnels in the sand, fishing off the pier or boogie boarding in the surf. My three great-granddaughters were different. More curious about shells, loving walks and holding hands. They were interested in building sand castles, not tunnels.

Little girls just like to have fun. They would dress up in their bathing suits, sunglasses, and hats and walk around the stretch of sand in front of our beach house. They might find a fabulous shell and run up to the deck and excitedly point to some new treasure. Then they would hop over the rail and want to put on dresses and “dressy” sandals and walk over to the Shell Shop across the street.

The Shell Shop was a small, brightly colored blue building right on Seacoast Drive. Step inside from a sunny day and the windowless store was cramped with bins of loose shells, little puka necklaces, conchos, tee-shirts, and all things related to the ocean. It was owned and run by a sweet, elderly, Asian lady who sat behind the counter with a fan always blowing on her. She left the entrance door wide open and would greet everyone with a smile and “hello.”

The girls loved this place. Their spending money was saved and allocated for what they might purchase at the Shell Shop. There was nothing like it anywhere else and every item was unique. And usually very affordable. It became almost a daily routine to visit the shop, girls picking out some special shell or bracelet, reaching into their little purses (often pink Unicorn wallets) to carefully get out their dollars to give to the kind “shop lady.”

From there, the next stop might be to the ice cream stand on Seacoast Drive, which was located at the beginning of the boardwalk. Before we get to ice cream, we might stop by a children’s playground so the girls could swing or climb on little seahorse rockers. Then it was off for ice cream, another big beach event. Because it takes serious contemplation to select from an array of tempting buckets of cold, creamy deliciousness.

So many flavors. So little time. The girls of summer would play in the sand, change into party dresses, go to the Shell Shop, get ice cream, go back to the beach house to start the cycle all over again. Play at the beach, dress-up, shop, eat ice cream. Repeat. And that is my favorite flavor of summer.