Beach Dreams

It’s that point of summer where it’s hot and only getting hotter. My mind turns to the beach. Not the Lake Michigan I see every day from my window. The beach I dream of is the edge of the ocean. I am not particular whether it’s the Atlantic or Pacific, just as long as it’s tropical.

I can’t go to the tropics right now. I’m not a millionaire. I have bills to pay and things to do. Two jobs and school. But I can fill my kitchen with mangoes and coconut-flavored things. I can wear pineapple lip balm as I watch videos of tropical fish. I add to my Pinterest board “the tropics” and pull it to the top of the page. I bought a candle that smells like coconut and flowers and listen to ocean sounds on an app.

I still dream of the beach. I dream I am staying at a luxury hotel right on the ocean. My suite is facing the water and I see the sun rise over the ocean to begin every day. I can hang out on their beach or swim laps in the heated pool. There’s a gym, a spa, tennis, and yoga in the mornings. The dining hall is half inside and half alfresco, with its buffet of fresh seafood and fruits. The balcony bar has cocktails made with local floral infusions. That’s where I watch the sun set over the ocean. Sometimes I take a dune buggy down the shore to a hut away from the bustle of the hotel for a few hours. No phone, no power. Just the ocean.

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