First thing Sunday morning.
Via the bakery.
The sun shone.
The breeze was absent.
The water was cold.
The littlest of us wore bathers that our Grandmother had made for our mother many years ago and only just fit. (And made us look a little like a wrestler. Ahem.)
But it was perfect.
Maybe because it might be the last for a while.
Sometimes, somehow that makes it even better.
No comments:
Post a Comment