Uncle Chester's World Beach Tour -

By: Your Favorite Nephew (Who Really Needs Sunscreen)

“Exfoliation!” he shouted. Tourists looked away. uncle chester's world beach tour

The sand squeaked under our feet like rubber ducks. Chester became obsessed. He started shuffling dramatically, composing what he called the “Squeak Symphony in B Major.” A lifeguard asked him to stop. Chester responded by building a sand sculpture of a kangaroo wearing sunglasses. It was, against all odds, excellent. By: Your Favorite Nephew (Who Really Needs Sunscreen)

He attempted to build a black sandcastle. It looked like a crumbling charcoal briquette. A passing Icelandic sheep stared at him with what I can only describe as pure judgment. Chester didn’t care. He pulled out a tiny vial, scooped up some black grains, and labeled it: “Beach #1: Tastes like regret and minerals.” Chester became obsessed

“Every beach,” he said quietly, “is the same ocean trying on different clothes.”

“See those?” he yelled over the gale. “Nature’s hexagons. Better than your smartphone grid.”

He spent four hours on his hands and knees, sorting colors. Red glass was “a rare blood type.” Blue was “for the melancholy.” He filled his watermelon cooler with so much sea glass that he couldn’t lift it. Gregory the seagull stole a bright green piece and flew off with it. Chester just waved.