the observer

There’s a lonely young girl, sitting on the sand and surveying her surroundings. She takes mental notes of the people around her.

There’s a group of teenage boys, having a game of beach volleyball. There’s a display of strong camaraderie, athleticism and energy. One boy misses the ball, the other guys jokingly headlock him.

There’s a group of toddlers - barely having gotten used to walking - trotting small steps along the deep sand. Some fall over; mums rush over and help their tots stand up.

There’s a young couple, laying side by side, head over heels in love, as if there’s not a care left in the world.

There’s an elderly couple, pulling each other along by the hand along the edges of the water. They twirl and begin to dance, letting the world see that sometimes, it’s the simplest things that give us the most joy.

There’s a father with two little girls, who whinge and whine and demand their dad’s individual attention. He sets up a kite and the girls laugh. Seeing this, he laughs, feeling relieved that he’s not doing such a bad job after all.

There are two women, jogging one behind the other along the high tide mark, welcoming the presence of the sun and the clear blue skies.

There’s a little boy, throwing his Frisbee as far as he can, loudly rooting for his dog Benny to catch it on the other side.

There are two young adults, shutting their novels and turning towards teach other to discuss and debate their literary adventures.

There’s a group of pre-teen girls, flicking the pages of the latest gossip magazine, whispering and giggling, oohing and aahing.

There’s a family picnic near the pier end of the beach. The parents, enjoying quality time spent with the family, prepare the food. The excited children invite the seagulls, serving them barbeque-flavoured chips.

That lonely young girl directs her eyes towards the sea, hoping that if there was another pair of observant eyes, they wouldn’t miss her solitary caricature sitting on the sand.