Hot Times - A Snippet

I sat in the sunshine, waiting for the bbq to cook the hot dogs.  They required very little tending.  My attention wandered.  My eyes closed.

I was feeling the sun on my skin,  reveling in the warmth and the peace.

An airplane flew overhead and I was immediately transported to the beach, on any summer afternoon, lying on a blanket, feeling the sun on my skin, listening to the waves and the airplanes.  

There were always airplanes - we lived and played under the approaches to JFK and LaGuardia airports.  But the beach airplanes were often propeller planes.  They flew lower than the commercial planes that carried passengers to far flung destinations.  These dragged banners behind them, promoting sunscreen and radio stations.  

I could feel the sand.  I could hear the ocean.  I was a teenager once again.

It only lasted a few moments. 

It was wonderful.