Closed for the Season

One of my favorite summer activities in my new state was to go down by the waterfront and look out over the sun spangled waters of Raritan Bay, watch the dinner cruise ships, the fishing boats and jet-skis, hear the gull cries echo, smell the brine (that is brine, right?) and envy the homes of the comfortable with their private beaches WAAAAY on the other side. (Here, I imagined a home invasion where I arrived with luggage in hand, saying, “I’m only staying for a week. What’s for dinner? Is that flatscreen a 1080p? Where’s the guest bedroom? Is the maid friendly? )

As I imagined my bemused but agreeable hosts allowing me access to their luxurious residence, I’d go to the ice-cream parlor and get a chocolate shake, or something with cookies in the title, or a chocolate based flavor with an extra ‘drizzle’ of caramel, which in my case means almost more syrup than ice cream. Next to living free in a rich person’s home for a week, (before I get my own, of course),  I could happily die drowning in a vat of caramel.

Soooo….it was the third week of October, and a quiet Friday evening. I went down to the waterfront, and after re-establishing the fact that the homes I liked were still there for the envying, I ventured to the ice cream parlor, only to see this sign:

CLOSED FOR THE SEASON: Our last day was October 13th (Columbus Day)

   I suppose it’s the right thing to do with an ice cream store in the winter, but really, could they not have converted into a coffee shop for the winter?

I stayed for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, not envying anything or anyone, happy to be alive, happy the gulls were still there, happy the sun was out even though it was setting, happy to feel the cool wind off the water, and I could see the twilight colors filling in with deep blue shadows, and watch the night lamps come on to push back the impending darkness for a while.

I could hear the gentle lapping of small waves against the rock wall, and I watched the first stars come out, small and shy, like children peeking from behind a grown-up’s leg.

It became all right that the ice cream parlor was closed for the season.

In fact, it was perfect.

Author: smithaw50

I live in NJ. Concentrating now on a getting a full time writing career started. Glad you could be with me on the journey. Ready? Here we go...

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