The Feeling of Summer

When she was a kid, it was all too easy for Megan to forget about responsibilities and obligations during the summer.

During those hazy days, all that mattered to Megan was that she was free. In the mornings, she could sleep in. In the afternoons, she could eat a bag of chips with ice cream on the side. After dinner, she could stay out until the start of dusk, which seemed to take longer and longer with every sunny day.

At the beach, she lost herself between the endless sparkling blue water and the stretching hills of white sand. She collected seashells until her buckets were overflowing. She skipped rocks until her arms were burnt and sore.

Now, she was thirty, and summer felt like little more than another test. How fast could she get her body bikini ready? When would she be able to squeeze in her next pap? Will she be invited to any backyard BBQs?

The clock was always racing and time was unforgiving.

Just for one summer, Megan wanted to go back to how things used to be. Was that too much to ask for?

How she longed for those summers from her childhood. Those summers felt so far away, they were sometimes difficult to remember. Megan needed to do something to change that. She needed a way to remember the meaning of summer.

She drove her economical car to the beach after work on a Wednesday in June. Her professional outfit clashed with the families in their swim gear, dotted along the sand, facing the glittering water.

This was the same beach she went to collect those seashells.

As she walked to the shoreline, her flats sank into the sand. The glow of the sun beamed down on her skin, making her face and arms burn in a way that reminded her how it felt to be alive.

She stepped out of her shoes and left them behind her as her bare feet sank into the thickened, darkened sand. Foamy water lapped at her toes while Megan looked out at the horizon. The glassy water stretched for so long, there was no end to it, until it kissed the sky, which streaked with shades of crimson, lilac, and gold.

Megan breathed the sight in, a smile causing her dimples to take form. The sun dipped even lower, its edges bleeding into the clouds as its reflection rippled.

Suddenly, she felt something tickle her foot. Looking down, she realized what had caused the sensation. It was a baby turtle, clawing its way through the wet sand. Or, attempting to.

Megan bent down quickly and reached a hand out to the baby turtle, but it stopped moving as it sensed her nearness.

“Don’t worry, little turtle. I’ll help you reach the water!” She promised with a whisper.

As the baby turtle tried to dig its arms into the sand again, Megan tilted her head and noticed that it wasn’t the only baby turtle. A group of them were following behind the first, trying to reach the water.

On the beach, a soft eruption took place as families and visitors noticed the turtles. Megan stood straight again, standing off to the side before raising her head to notice the many pointing fingers and grinning faces looking back at the turtles at her feet.

“Come here,” she encouraged, waving her hands at the nearby beachgoers.

“We need to make a line to help the turtles reach the water!” Her voice grew louder as she turned to face even more people.

Slowly, children and parents, people carrying dogs and others holding phones approached the shore. Some people lined up beside Megan, others went to stand opposite her. Together, the people made two lines, like a bridge to connect the turtles to their new home.

Megan encouraged the turtles on. Her voice was joined by many others.

“Go on, turtles! Go, go, go!”

“That’s it, keep going!”

“Straight ahead, to the water.”

“Good job, turtles!”

Megan blinked and was surprised to feel a stinging sensation overtaking her eyes. Tears began to form, making her blink even faster, as she let out a relieved laugh when the turtles all – one by one – managed to find their way to the water.

She waited until they were all swept away by the tide, then clapped her hands together.

The remaining people that formed the bridge joined in, clapping for the good work they all joined in to do.

When she stopped clapping, Megan let out a laugh.

She wiped her fingers along her lashes, gathering up the moisture that had started to accumulate. Sniffling, she turned to the others who were lowering their phones and starting to disband.

“Thank you,” she said to everyone.

Everyone returned her appreciation with a smile.

Eventually, Megan found her way back to her shoes, and followed her footprints back to her car. She dusted the sand off her feet as best as she could before sliding them back into her slip-ons.

The crunch and scrape of sand pebbles sticking to her skin told her that she hadn’t done a very good job of ridding herself of its mess. Likely, her shoes would require a thorough cleaning.

But it was worth it.

Smiling to herself, she opened her car door and was about to get in when someone called out to her from a few spots over.

“Hey, are you the turtle girl?”

Megan turned to spot a man looking back at her. She chuckled at his nickname for her.

“Yeah, I guess…” she hesitated as he approached.

He was tall, wore a backwards hat, and had a lean build. The closer he got, the more she noticed that his eyes weren’t actually brown – they had a hint of green in them.

“That was really cool, how you organized everyone into two lines like that.”

Megan grinned up at the man and felt her cheeks bloom with warmth in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

“Thank you,” she said, shyly.

“I’m Edgar,” he leaned in a little closer.

“I’m Megan,” she replied quickly.

And all at once, she felt that same feeling that summer brought her when she was a child.

She was free, at least for the evening.