MEMORIE / 2021

I remember when mum used to wake me up at dawn so that we could find a parking space.
I remember walking along the pebbly shore to get away from the crowd.
I remember the low tide in the morning and at sunset.
The sound of the waves cradling me while I snoozed until I was awakened by the hot sun.
I remember perfectly groomed hands hastily applying sun lotion on my skin.
I remember being in the water for hours with my twin brother, playing, fighting, making up.
I remember being jealous when a new child would show up on our same empty beach, and dad’s tender voice trying to distract me.
I remember mum stretching out in the sun for hours and dad being bored just like the rest of us.
His child-like eyes and his imagination.
We used to look for seashells and colored glass along the shore for hours.
That empty bottle that would turn into a little sea world inhabited by the pebbles, seaweed and seashells we collected.
I remember diving from the pier and the sea urchins that stung my feet when I touched the bottom, and those same, perfectly groomed hands patiently removing the thorns from my feet.
I remember the mortadella and gherkin sandwiches and the yogurt we ate with melon.
I remember the seagulls gathering together at sunset when we tossed pieces of bread at them… Dad would always toss them so far away.
I remember the low tide in the morning and at sunset.
I remember feeling the salt on my back when I put my t-shirt back, waking to the car at the end of a day at the beach.
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