I've got to be honest with you: I am homesick.
I mean: I'm home - we're home - my Man, Cat, Self. In London. But in my heart, in my head, I'm still on the beach below my parents' summer home. We'd have finished dinner on the deck - something I made - Mother, Man, Self. And I'd have gone down with him after dinner, while my Mom stayed up on the deck, and I'd ask her after: Did you see that sunset? Wasn't it amazing? (Because, of course, she'd see the same sun set from the deck).
We'd walk past the other condo units, on the bluffs overlooking the Sound, and each night, the same various couples would call out: 'Catch any fish yet?' and we'd say 'Not yet!'. We'd pass the same couple having dinner on their deck, candles, wine, and ask what they were eating tonight (lobster, usually, or some other sea food, and then they'd ask: 'Did you catch any fish yet?') and then we'd walk down the 106 steps to the beach that was all our own, apart from the same faces we'd see from time to time, the couple who I posted about last year, say, or the teenagers, or a few guys fishing. Or the group that would come in by boat. But most of the time, it was just us, alone with the sea and the setting sun.
We went earlier, this summer, than past summers, and in many ways, it was more perfect than any visit to the North Fork since my father died. All our family were together: my sister and family, my brother and my niece, all together for my mom's birthday. My husband didn't catch any fish this year, because it was too early for the Blues to come in (or, perhaps, because this was such a warm summer). But he still fished, every night, and I joined him, sometimes swimming in the Sound. Sometimes sitting on the sand, crossed legged, watching the sun go down.
I'm not interested in fashion tonight. I'd happily trade my Burberry Shearling Aviator jacket (if I had one) for another week of those nights. The Blues, I am sure, are at our beach by now, we're just not there to see them.
There will probably be less people coming to my blog, if they're expecting street style. That's okay: there are lots of other blogs to visit. Besides, I'm not going to stop it forever. But just tonight... I want it to be summer, still. It's too cold here. We're hoping to go camping in St. Ives, in Cornwall, but it will only be a night or two at most. I don't want to sound like a petulant teenager, but that's how I feel. I want to go home. I feel so close to that childhood feeling, when it stays light late, past your bedtime, and Mommy and Daddy know everything there is to know, and summer seems like it will last forever, and all is safe with the world.
Earlier today, I said I was feeling blue, so he took me to see the French rom com 'Heartbreaker' again, altho we just saw it two days ago. We both agreed: it's even better the second time around. If you haven't seen it yet: go. Now. Even if for the moment, your heart is broken, go anyway: you will laugh and you will cry, but you'll feel full of hope and glad to be alive. I promise.
(I am wearing, incidentally, a men's thermal tee by Hanes, from K Mart. He's is wearing linen drawstring trousers from Barney's, I think, many years ago, and a white tee from the Gap. And my mom's old blue 'fanny pack' from aerobics class, to hold his lures.)