“Don’t go out any further. Knee deep! Stay in front of me where I can see you!” Leah shouted out to daughter Lorileigh, ten feet away, under the high sun in a sapphire sky at noon shining down on waves rolling in, kids all around writing their names in the wet sand with their fingers, only to see them then quickly erased by the rushing water, building castles, throwing mud at each other, and laughing while running around in circles chasing each other on a hot but breezy day as seagulls chirped and cawed flying by the pier on the beach in Santa Monica, California.
Leah had rented beach chairs, a small fold up table, and a large umbrella for $250, along with two bags of crushed ice for $75, at Will Rogers State Beach, the stretch of Pacific Ocean sand that led all the way three miles north
