Chicken Soup for the Beach Lover's Soul Read Online Free PDF

castles with Daddy!” my youngest beachcomber shouts, nearly hitting me with an exuberant swing of her new blue sand pail. “Can we go swimming in the ocean every day?”
    Smiling, I put on a happy face, despite a nagging headache. Board games (in case of rain), stuffed animals, and nighttime storybooks are jammed into already overstuffed bags. Picking up one of my chick-lit novels, I shake my head and return it to my nightstand. This is a family vacation; I guess those lazy days of beachside reading are a thing of the past.
    Rays from the southwest Florida sun soon welcome us to our beach home. Sanibel Island is all that I remember— palm fronds waving in the warm breeze along miles and miles of nothing but cool, white sand. Opening the sliding glass doors of our condo, I inhale the salty sea air. Waves roar alongside families playing on the sand. Maybe I should give beach life a chance. Shedding our clothes, we change into swim attire before hastily making our way to the sandy shore.
    While we walk along the beach, a few sharp surprises underfoot remind me that Sanibel is nicknamed “Shell Island.” “Mama, here is a pretty pink one,” my three-year-old marvels as she plink, plinks shell after shell into her blue bucket. Bent over in the famous “Sanibel Stoop” position, we scoop nets into the cool blue water, bringing in colorful treasures for our collection.
    Just like that, we develop an island rhythm, a routine that involves heading to the beach each morning after breakfast, just in time to discover the treasures of low tide: bountiful shells and egg casings left behind by mollusks. After my husband helps the kids create the world’s biggest sandcastle, complete with a water-filled moat, the girls play contentedly for hours, happy to have a playhouse for their “Little People” dolls. With time to myself, I recline in my beach chair and begin a romance novel. (Who knew that our condo would have a bookshelf full of good beach reads?) Time, measured only by the ebb and flow of the tides, seems of little importance. We head inside only for a quick sandwich; often we pack a cooler so we can lunch right on the sand.
    Riding boogie boards in the water, my girls squeal in delight as they ride the tides into shore. “Mama! Mama! Guess what?” My six-year-old, all drippy from her swim, comes running toward my beach chair. “We saw a dolphin jump right out of the water! Come quick so you can see it!”
    Jumping up, I grab each of my daughters’ hands and run toward the water. Sure enough, another dolphin rises above the crashing waves, putting on quite a show just for us. “Cool!” my girls shout, obviously more than a little excited.
    Squeezing my daughters’ hands, I look up to see my husband, his arm around my shoulder, grinning ear-to-ear. “Let’s take a little walk along the beach,” he suggests. “Maybe we can see more dolphins. Girls, don’t forget your shell nets and pails.”
    As the four of us walk hand in hand along the shore, sand seeping between our toes, I spot a row of small pink cottages. “Look, there is where it all began,” I smile, remembering that romantic beach vacation from years past.
    â€œYeah, but we have so much more now,” my husband muses, his arms heavy laden with shell-filled pails that the girls have tired of carrying.
    Laughing, I realize that we indeed do have so much more: more fun, more laughter, and a family with whom to share our love of the beach.
    Stefanie Wass

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SUNRISE/SUNSET:
CREATING SPECIAL
MOMENTS
    G uard well your spare moments. They are like uncut diamonds.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson

One More Wave
    I wasn’t thrown out of the house as a kid, but during the lazy days of summer you wouldn’t find me at home. I lived on the beach. Nothing could have been better. The beach was everything good: freedom from the chores of daily existence; warm, gentle breezes; waves