Distinct white sandy beaches share memories of flying kites, built sand castles, then burying each other in the hot burning sand for the dare of it. The sand castles resembled a sturdy build but with one bang they fell like dynamite. I remember the smell from the fish and chip shops and how the sea air would develop a huge hunger for food, and how your body would unwind as the sea air would create a meditating yawn unfolding the day.
The feel of the dry alienated sand between toes felt preconditioned. The sound from the sacred noises- the seagulls performed whilst circling amongst a gathered choir in crystal blue skies. Extra ice-cream provided on days like these to trigger nostalgia- a childlike feeling to go missing comes. No rattling of car keys to drive back to work can be heard.
The sea was calling me to ask seized questions in a halting stare of frenzy in order to break bad decisions hinting. I wanted to linger longer; the beach was holding me to sit down. I felt its warm embrace.
My favourite month in the year was always April where everything starts to blossom. It was neither hot nor cold just a nice mild temperature where you could easily play with the sand without burning your feet unfairly. There was an ease felt in this month effortless enjoyment. April told me in small whispers through the wind who I really was. The older I get, the more I clinically come lost in the month’s beauty and calmness. There was not one aspect of the thirty days that I disliked. Adoring the fashion, you could boldly wear any colour in its views, right up to the adventures you could easily explore if wanted on drier lands. Bundles of flowers would bloom and the swiping colours that change cunningly through the skies were just awesome. There was no excuse or reason to hold myself back from any exploration only to utterly and purely soak in the bliss moments that April would offer. Maybe the fact that my mother had also called me April was a bonus as well. Cheesy I know, right?
Why were we called similar names, maybe we were connected in some co-star way? I didn’t feel this was a coincidence.
Somewhere deep down even as a child, I knew this was a sign, a resemblance for me to resonate with, a feeling that touched me every year deliberately. This was the universes way of telling me, “I also am a flower that blossoms every year, we all are!”
Weeds developed over the years, curling their bodies around flowers in my sights, choking them, flattening their heads but April was powerful, it rebirthed everything that was possible, the beach was my grounding place to sprout energy from a heart beating more rhythmically in the sea air.
My name was April, but I think I should have been called Page. I was always writing down my next plan or drawing my next invention, if it wasn’t a swing, it was a tent, or a go cart or even maybe an obstacle course. I was for sure to plot some idea to out roll in the month of April by lifting curtains on history- on top notch-memories revisited. I see rows of daffodils from a distance queuing together to greet people with sunny dashing smiles. Each flower cautiously handpicks you to remember or forget good and bad days graciously. They pick you up, their energy rises yours.
The flaunting idea of the skies changing colours excite me on so many different levels, not knowing what day would bring which painted colour. I on the other hand was just as unpredictable as the weather. Changeable and random erratic weather conditions was possible in the month of April. I also was neither hot nor cold in temperature at the best of times. The temperature with me had to be checked before crossing but everybody understood me as April. I understood the month of April- I gelled into its exterior. It would be raining one day, cold the next but no matter how many clouds would see April, it would promise the next day to be much sunnier regardless what job sat on the shelf or what weed presented its face.