I ate my Pink Lady on the beach today.  It was overcast, humid and a touch chilly and the apple with its crisp bite was perfect.  There were not many people on the shore, those who had come were mostly surfers and beach strollers.  The tide was high and the waves washed cleanly, in such a way that surfers expert and novice caught them easily and many washed over and over into shore.  Parker stood down at the water's edge and his laughter as the waves crested over his feet and calves held in the dense air.  Ryan stood with him, holding him up as the waves came and went, letting him feel the drag of the undertow by setting his legs into the retreating waves and allowing them to pull at his ankles.  Ryan turned to me and smiled a laughing smile at Parker's exhilaration and I laughed back.  My apple was almost finished but what remained I left on the paper towel I'd brought it wrapped in, jumped from the big blue beach towel and, digging my heels into the sand, gave into their invitations.