Vacation Paradise

Easter Sunday was a bright and sunny morning, very warm - 80ish - for us, so we went to the beach. The WCM and Miss Peanut cavorted surfside, throwing her toy plane back and forth (the toy from her kid's breakfast meal at Sonic - ah, the deep fried goodness...) while I sat solitary, the abandoned guardian of "the stuff." It's all good though, because the beach here at Sullivan's Island is so different from the New Jersey Shore of my childhood.

There, the sand was coarse and rough, almost cutting your feet as you trudged through it toward the water. Here, the sand is powdery fine and silky soft. Even with the occasional prickly shell embedded in it, this sand is a satiny treat to sink one's feet into.

At Cape May, my memories are of pestilent, persistent seagulls, divebombiing tourists eating lunch, feeding off the abandoned sandwich or fries. Here, I can watch the pelicans - squat, dumpy deformed-looking birds on land - soar gracefully above the ocean searching for fish. Once found, I thrill as they pull in their wings and plummet beak-first into the ocean, making a tidy splash.

The sky is a gorgeous deep azure blue here, with feathery clouds tracing delicately above the water. Even with other sun-worshippers clustered about the beach, there is no overbearing drone of the banner-flying advertising plane or the raucous grating of a neighbor's Bon Jovi CD. Nothing against Bon Jovi, mind you, but the peace and -even cliched - serenity of the rolling waves is the only sound I hear.

I must, however, be the only lunatic out here scanning the knee-high water for signs of fins. For where there be large fins, there be large teeth. Nice to know my shark phobia lives on. I've always been in awe of sharks. Their effortless slicing throught the water, the graceful propulsion, and of course, the aforementioned big teeth. What can I say - I'm a girl easily impressed by size.

They fascinate me like no other creature on this earth, these prehistoric throwbacks. I've always watched TV programs on sharks - Shark Week on the Discovery Channel is must-see-TV for me. I have to watch them with my feet tucked up under me and off the floor, for, when sharks are on TV, the sofa becomes a raft, didn't you know? Also, TV sharks can swim through your carpet and bite your feet off at the ankles if you keep your feet on the floor. It's a recognized fact. I've been brave on this vacation and gone in up to my knees.

As I sat on the beach that day, searching the sparkling ripples of the Sullivan's Island shore, the theme from Jaws running through my head, I realize that even with the different location, some things never change.