Magic quartz and sand.

It is Saturday and we spend the beautiful day together at the lake, with the littlest one-- Delilah dog. She falls in love with the water and the sand at the very tip of the point. The portion of the peninsula that juts into the water, merging sand with navy liquid. She would venture into the water splashing as long as she could before leaving its near freezing temperatures. Then, then she would run, she would jump, she would dance up the bank to the sand. There in the sand she would frolic and completely cake herself with the grainy warm goodness. I joined her in the water, letting my feet sink into the sand beneath the glassy surface until I had to remove them because of the temperature, then I would bury them in the warmth of the sand, its cells capturing each bit of heat offered by the sun and keeping it safe below its surface. My feet flushed pink from the chill of the water, almost matching the pink of my polished toenails.
You played too, but didn't take your shoes off. You stood on the very edge of the sand bank and allowed yourself to sink. And I laughed, and we laughed, at each other and at the DeeDee dog. Our laughter surely made the air a bit warmer that day.