Red Boots on the Beach

In mid-September, medical waste washed up on East Coast beaches, leaving behind syringes and vials. Josh and I had plans to go to the beach that weekend, and we talked about the intelligence of this plan. The beach was closed for swimming or wading, and the forecast called for rain throughout the visit.

But I mentally needed a trip to the beach, so I spoke to a park ranger who told me that walking on the beach in shoes was fine and a clean-up was underway. We decided to go ahead and park, facing the ocean, and read in the car if it was too rainy.

The rain never materialized, and I threw on a pair of bright red rain boots and set up my chair away from the water line. It was sunny and windy, perfect reading on the beach weather, and we ate chips and watched the waves and read books. We never saw a syringe, and the beach re-opened while we were there for swimming. We left on our boots because we didn’t want to chance it.

The beach was mostly empty.

Many people must have canceled because when we checked into the hotel, they gave us a free weeknight to use any time we wanted this year to thank us for our business. We probably would have canceled, too, if this had happened when the kids were little. But we’re in the red-rain-boots-on-the-beach-eating-chips stage of life.