So here I am posting something vaguely appropriate more than a day late. But in my defense, I wrote it in April, put it aside, and forgot it until Sunday. So if you, too, missed National Flip Flop Day, celebrate it belatedly with me.
Flip-flop
The sandy-haired
young man hesitated, turning slightly toward me as he closed the door to his
room. Assured that the door had locked, he walked away. Wearing casual shorts
and an untucked T-shirt, his clothing was in contrast with his surroundings, the
hall with its formal striped wallpaper and floral medallions in the carpet. As
he walked, the plush carpet muffled the sounds his shoes made as they slapped
the soles of his feet with each step. Though soft, the sound was unmistakable Flip, flop, flip, flop, or as a friend once
described it, the sound of summer.
I
knew nothing about the stranger, but from the appearance of his untanned legs
and arms, I surmised that he might be visiting Point Clear from a cooler clime,
or perhaps he was a young executive usually attired in a business suit and this
was his first opportunity to dress so casually. After all, it was still
springtime if one followed the calendar. But in south Alabama the daffodils
bloomed in late February and early March, fully leafed dogwood trees had lost
their blossoms shortly after Easter, and temperatures had begun to soar.
As
I continued down the hall, I caught a faint whiff of something familiar:
sunscreen. You know the one, the one that smells a little like coconut. Faint
in the air-conditioned hall, by the time his arms were warmed by the sun, the
aroma would intensify. Did the scent remind him, as it did me, of happy times
on the beach?
I
smiled. The month of April might be considered springtime by some, but
flip-flops and eau de coconut proclaimed that in south Alabama, summer had
arrived.
