Children building sandcastles. Sand in your sandwiches. The sound of laughter.
After a long trek, we made it to the gleaming shore, worries already forgotten as we sprinted into the waves, revelling in the sea’s soothing cold after the sun’s blistering heat. Squeals when a ginormous shark - or perhaps, on reflection, a bit of stray seaweed - brushed our legs, prompting another sprint back out of the water to the safety of our beach towel. Mum and Dad laughing at our hasty return, but promising to join us next time and scare off any other monsters. Next, sand castles, perfected by the addition of a real moat. The sea took part in our game, sweeping in to fill it - leaving us feeling like little kings and queens of our precious fort. Digging with my little shovel, I felt the slick of sunscreen, salt on my tongue and the grit of wet sand, already drying on my skin. We were called back for our cucumber sandwiches, made delicious by the day’s excitement and laughter, when we found that they were liberally garnished with sand. Finally, ice cream; vanilla melting between our fingers as we watched the sun go down. As we turned to make the journey home, the sea was awash with colour: inky indigo at the shore, blazing red where it touched the sun.