[5 - Warmup: I remember...]

I remember sitting on the beach. It’s not like most people’s memories of the beach, warm sand and swimsuits and cold drinks on vacation. It’s tide pools and cold winds, it’s a November day, walking barefoot only because my shoes got soaked through in the rain and it’s warmer without them than with. 

The fog has rolled in and out twice, already, since we started walking the few miles down the beach. The sun will burst through for a few minutes, then the fog or heavy grey clouds will roll in again off the ocean and we’ll be soaked through again, not that we ever got dry.

I have rain gear for days like this, but it never seems to do any good. I just get wet from sweat and moisture on the inside rather than outside, and I never did like the feeling of wet plastic against my skin. I’d rather be exposed to the elements.

There’s a tangle of kelp washed up, and we hack off a piece with pocketknives that aren’t quite up to the task, but they make a great horn, and I blow into it until my lips tingle with the vibration. After I pull it away, my face is covered in sand, and not thinking, I lick my lips, and end up with a mouthful of grit. I must have made a face because my companion laughs at me.