Barefoot by the beach

Living it

Morning begins with the light through sheer curtains and the first wave sounds over breakfast. By nine, the sandals are abandoned by the door; they stay there until dinner, when the feet are still sandy and the shirt is still unbuttoned. The afternoon drifts between a towel on the dunes and the cool shade of the balcony. There's no rush to get anywhere — the beach is already there. Dinner is grilling on the deck or a casual table at a beachside shack where the menu fits on one side of the paper. Sunset comes slow and orange, painting the horizon across the glass doors. You watch it from bare feet, knowing the same waves will be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.