The beach season conundrum

In Portugal from the first days of May up to the last days of September every weekend and day off is potentially a beach day. The sun is out (it almost always is), grab your towel and sunscreen and lets go! And this is the sort of mindset I had, just like everybody else. Not that I did do it though. Truth be told I only went to the beach for two weeks on my family's vacation. And that was heaven enough for me! It was the perfect combination of fresh fish and fruit, loads of ice cream, loads of books, loads of time at the beach, walking everywhere, not a care in the world, no peer pressure (it was really just family) and nothing else. And even though it wasn't always perfect and we did clash, in the end we all had our routine pretty much down. My dad would read half the newspaper, my great-aunt the other half, my aunt would read some huge law book and I would read literature. But I digress.

The thing is for those five-ish months going to the beach was always an option, it was always there. And now it's over a thousand miles away and it pains me more than I'd care to admit. I miss it. The sun, the smell of sunscreen, swimming the the sea, hearing the seagulls, I miss it. And it's not like I can complain much; over in the Midlands we've been blessed with quite a number or hot sunny days this year, and I'm very happy and grateful for that. And then I turn on Facebook and there it is. Dozen and dozens of pictures of old friends at the beach. And at times my heart just wants to go back. (Though weather, food and family aside I'd quite happy here and don't dream of moving back for the foreseeable decades).

So it's up to me to find some sort of balance that leaves me content enough with the whole issue. And I realise that may take a few years (because it's not just me anymore, it's also my boyfriend and both families) but if I can pull it off and find some kind of peace with my new reality, then it'll be worth it.