Picnic

The carefully organised basket was now sitting on the smooth surface of the sand, proclaiming silently its well worn use and much loved outings. A group of young children could be heard laughing close by, adding the final touches to their sandcastles before finally acknowledging their mother’s voice. The basket sat patiently while young hands were wiped clean, playful puts on their cherub faces for having their fun spoilt. But then again, they didn’t really want to eat a sandy sandwich.

The basket was left alone a moment longer while towels were carefully laid out, shaken of excess sand by the alpha male before carefully laid down again. Small bodies plopped down on them, now impatient to be fed.

At last the basket was opened, almost to its familiar relief. Now it sat silently while carefully prepared sandwiches were past around to eager hands. The sound of munching could be clearly hears, while the ever present sea beat rhythmically on the shore, trying to tempt the family back.

The basket would have smiled smugly if it could, proud to have once again earned their full attention. After all, why would the family even bother coming to the sea if not to bring a faithful picnic? Such a familiar presence, unlike the unknowable and dangerous sea…

A hand reached into the basket once more, this time for crisps and foods to satisfy sweet cravings. The basket kept its attention focused on its family, purposely ignoring the sea close by. It was not part of this family ritual, but the basket would always be.

Young bellies were satisfied too soon, insisting that fruit was no needed to keep them healthy as they ran back to the sea with buckets. The basket promptly ignored the sea’s taunting slaps on the sand. It didn’t matter to the basket because it would always be here, always be part of the family. The sea could claim no such thing; it was only visited but never belonging. No matter how it taunted the basket now, it would still be left behind as the day ended.