The waves marched to their drum beat time as Baby E and I stood with our feet in the near freezing water, gazing out to the sea. Baby E likes to throw ‘pretty things’ into the water- a beautiful shell, an unusual rock- he sacrifices them all to the waves. Like an artist picking out the perfect canvas for her masterpiece, so does C scour the beach for unblemished sand in which to etch her musings. She prefers the damp, not wet sand found just out of the reach of the waves. As for Big E, he sits himself quietly to a task, whether it be watching a bug, digging a hole, or rummaging through shells and sand- content to be alone and unaware of the world around him, he loses himself to his business.

And so we spent the better part of our evening. Our normally desolate beach was streaming with people, each clinging to the warm air that has been so hesitant to arrive, for fear it might leave again.