On our most recent vacation to the beach, my husband and I sat on the deck from late afternoon well into the night as our week was coming to an end. We’re way past the age of frolicking in the surf until our mothers call us inside, so we were content to sit in the balmy breeze of late summer and just be.
It’s hard to do. But there’s a tipping point when you become drunk from the sensuality of the experience as you watch the descent of the sun. I’m talking about all the senses first exploding, then complementing each other, delicately, subtly. And you know peace.