boys of summer

Recently Bradford asked if he could go to the beach with a few friends, just to hang out.

“Yea, sure,” I responded.

He’s thirteen, soon to be 14 years old. An age where the strings begin to loosen, allowing him to explore his world without mommy and daddy constantly breathing down his neck.

“Cool, thanks Mom. And don’t worry, I will be safe. I will check in with you regularly,” Brad tells me, knowing I need that peace of mind.

Later. Much later, after the sun had set and the day’s activities had been expended, Brad told me about Arch Rock in Corona del Mar, California; a natural structure within the confines of a private beach, solely for those multimillionaires who could afford such a lifestyle.

“Nice. You climbed it, then jumped?” I asked.

“Yep. So cool!”

“But, wait, you said you were at a private beach? How’d you get in?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, well, we dodged a security guard and jumped the gate!”

Gulp! But, I figured the day was done, and lecturing, at this point wasn’t going to happen, not when, at that moment, I really was more interested in Arch Rock.

“Pictures?” I inquired.

Brad shoved his phone towards me, pictures ready to be browsed through.

“Oh, Arch Rock is HUGE!” I exclaimed.

“I know, right? It was awesome!”