MY FAMILY USED TO RENT a cottage at Sauble Beach every summer. It was a shack really, with uneven floors, drafty windows, and plumbing that sputtered, farted, and screeched every time the water was turned on. But to me it was paradise. I’d wake up every day to the smell of water and sand, with gritty beach particles still caked to my skin and wedged between my toes. Breakfast was always something easy and sugary, and then I was outside, running to the shore, my flip-flops clacking loudly, barely holding together, as I raced down Chesley Lane.
All the kids in the neighbourhood would meet at a nearby dune, where there was driftwood to sit on and brambles to shield us from the road. On the days when the temperatures soared, we stuck close to the water, sculpted sand figures, and dipped and waded as needed for relief. Other days we biked up to the falls and wandered along the trails and skipped stones in the fast-moving current. We’d find washed-up fish carcasses in various states of decay along the river and make up elaborate stories of how they met their demise.
Sometimes we’d hang out on the main street, burning through our allowances in the arcade. We’d gorge on vanilla soft serve and fries, and then, once we were out of money, we’d loiter in the shops, trying on oversized sunglasses and ugly plastic toy jewellery and laughing about it until they kicked us out. Most nights ended with a bonfire
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Jonathan Scott Davies received his Bachelor of Fine Arts in Film Studies from Toronto Metropolitan University. His work has appeared in Whataroll Magazine, The Smart Set, The Brussels Review, and been exhibited at the Portland Film Festival, Gallery 44, and the Toronto Public Library. He was the recipient of a 2021 Toronto Arts Council Writers Grant. He currently lives and works in Toronto. Website: ww.jonathanscottdavies.com.