The sense of return, the melancholy of a goodbye.
Life that starts again, the ‘life’ that many call normal.
The eyes are tired, flushed, and the saltiness on the skin, in the heart.
The acrid smell of a sunset still in the nostrils, the sweet taste of the almost finished sunscreens, of the tanning oils, exotic.
The tired cries of the coconut vendors on the beach, always the same, with the pale blue fridge bags.
The big embrace of the sea, like the embrace of the dearest of relatives that we see only at Christmas, tight in his colored sweater, and that the rest of the year we know, we miss a bit, but we can never call him. Thoughts and ideas for the coming year.
‘From September I start playing tennis’, ‘Tomorrow afternoon I’m ordering a new coffee machine’, ‘I’ve decided, I’m going to change jobs!’
‘I really have to tell him, as soon as I come back, that you can not go on like that any more.’
We leave them thus, free and delicate on the waves of the afternoon, which now seem to follow a lighter and well-defined course. It seems that everything has taken a right turn finally. From September we write in a new notebook, just bought.
And we will write some great things this time, you will see.
The buckets are rinsed, the luggage racks, the rear seats, the roofs of cars parked badly on the sidewalks. The last children who stubbornly escape into the water again chase each other back to their ears and their eyes full of tears. In the meantime, we listen to the sound of the sea that seems more and more distant, a memory, the most beautiful illusion. Beyond the trees, the camps play the usual songs, almost in a low voice now.
The empty pitches, the wind is now cooler and heavier.
The windows that close, the long pants.
The stones stolen in the bag, the receipts of the last ice creams.
‘Hello, have you arrived now?’
‘Yes, this year we start the holidays late.’
‘You? Are you coming back? ”
‘It was the last day at sea today.’