A Story A Day. Story 165 of 365: Sand.

I fondly remember the summer holidays. When I was a kid we lived close to the beach. Once or twice a week grandma would drive us with her van to it, so we could play in the sand and our parents could take a break. We usually left early in the morning, almost at sunrise, to take profit of the cooler hours. While we swam, the older kids taking care of the younger, grandma would set up a tent, so we could have shade for lunch. She always packed the best lunches, there was pasta or rice, and tons of different fruit or some homemade dessert. After lunch, we would lie on the sand and take a nap to recharge the batteries. As soon as the sun wasn't so high on the sky, she would apply sunscreen to all of us and let us go back to play. Those times with grandma are some of the best memories I have. I also remember arriving home and discovering sand everywhere. I would collect it and keep it in glass jars, thinking that I had brought home some of the fun we had at the beach. I still keep those jars, and, sometimes, I open them trying to find the smell of the sea.