There's always a breeze to our backs. The sound of crashing waves heard softly in the background. Sand seeps throughout the house as sand tends to do. Sun pierces and burns our faint skintones. Our bodies still acclimate to summer and its new rhythms out east.
Inside are a mix of original and remodeled moments. What remains or rather survived after the storm leaves traces of what once was. Under and around each piece of tattered and worn furniture there no doubt have been family vacations, birthdays and anniversaries celebrated, wet swimsuit bottoms plopped at tables for lunches, and showers near dusk to clear away the sand gathered along the day.
Our laundry blows on the line in back. The sun and sea breeze do what they do best free of charge. By evening the grills fire themselves up, the fire pit glows, the twinkle lights turn on, all as darkness casts its shadow over the island.
These moments come naught without transition and bumps, yet they're exceptionally mundane and ordinarily beautiful.