a weekend in Normandie

Tranquil. That is the one word that best describes Deauville and Trouville. Of course, charming, chic, and many other adjectives are easily applicable. But nothing was as pervasive as the tranquility. It was present amidst the wind and the chilling rain. It was found on destination-free walks through neighborhoods filled with grand old homes, empty, waiting without complaint for their summer guests. It appeared from the depths of glasses of beer and in the savory flesh of fresh fish. Tranquility. I felt it in the sand and broken seashells beneath my bare feet. I heard it in the rhythmic lapping of the ocean against the shore. I saw it in the rays of sunshine that diffused through a cloudy grey backdrop like a window to heaven. I possessed it in the hand that was interlocked with mine. I might have spent a lifetime on that beach and never noticed the passing of time.