“We better get packed up,” Mum says, handing me my towel. I wrap myself in it and grab my flip flops to rinse my feet at the water’s edge. Hopping on one foot while drying the other, I touch the dry foot to the wet sand to regain my balance and have to Start all over again. I almost drop my towel in the water in an acrobatic attempt to prevent sand from Sticking to my feet on the walk back to the car. The ritual is ultimately futile, but I have to try anyway. In my fruStration, I look down the shore and see something whipping across the beach in the wind. A screen of sand whirls in one direction and then back on itself, progressively getting closer. I look to Mum; she looks towards the dancing wheel of sand and waves at me to hurry up, almoSt dropping the tote bag.

“Here! Carry this for me. We'd better get off the beach!” I take the bag from her and we scurry across the cooling sand. It shifts underfoot, slowing us down, and soon it flies up at us in a frenzy. It Stings my eyes, but I can’t see where I’m going when I close them so I bring up my towel to make walls around my face. I fall behind my mum and run to catch up. She takes my hand and leads me back to the main drag of the beach town. By now the towel is completely covering my eyes and I need her to guide me half-way up the Street until the sand Stops blowing. Mum always told me there were awesome Storms around Lake Erie. This is a calm one compared to the big winds that cause so much deStruction to the beach houses, but it’s the firSt one I’ve ever seen.

It’s dinner time and not raining yet, though the temperature is Starting to drop. We head to the foot-long hot dog Stand and Mum orders us two with some fries to share. Usually I juSt wear my bathing suit home in the car but the wind is turning my skin to blotches of red and purple goose bumps, so I head to the bathroom and change into dry clothes. When I return, Mum is sitting at a large round wooden picnic table under a patio umbrella that’s twiSting and flapping wildly. She’s trying to weigh down a Stack of napkins with a pop can. Her foot long is loaded with mustard, relish, sauerkraut, banana peppers and some garlic mayonnaise. I take my dog to the counter and slather it in juSt ketchup.

From the patio, we can see the rain Starting to fall over the lake, slowly making its way towards shore. We watch the sheets of miSt move across the water while we eat our hot dogs and fries. The sky is black above us and the wind blows my long dirty blonde hair into a pile of frizzy curls. In the opposite direction, towards home, the sky looks clearer.

By the time we reach Jarvis again, there are only a few wispy clouds hanging in the sky. We're dazzled by their display of pastels from yellow, orange, bright pink into a gradient of deep purple and darkening blue.

“T juSt love clouds.” Mum tells me this every time we see beautiful clouds. “Look at that one

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over there!” She points out the driver’s side window to a lone fluffy cumulus on fire with bright pink and orange.

“Do you think it'll be sunny tomorrow, Mum?”

“Probably, since we chose today to go to the beach.”

“Maybe I can go to the pool, then?” In the summer, planning where and when I can swim next is a top priority. Luckily, there’s a pool in our townhouse complex I can walk to every day.

“Of course. You know what they say, ‘Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”

T look at Mum, confused.

“Tt’s an old saying that means if the sky is red at night, the weather’s going to be nice and safe for sailing.”

“Oh! So if it’s red in the morning, the sailors take warning that the weather will be bad?”

“That’s what they say, anyway.” I’m appeased by her explanation and lean back against the maroon headreSt. My slightly damp curls fall on my shoulders and I close my eyes. The undulating sensation from swimming in the waves continues to rock me. I try to hold on to the feeling of being pushed by the water and falling backwards as long as muscle memory lets me. I let it take me and imagine delighted sailors and weather-predicting cows until I drift off for the reSt of the drive home.

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