The aunts never shaved their legs. They rolled up their trousers and ran into the sea.
We sat gingerly on towels, lost in examining our milk limbs. The heat buzzed and sat on our shoulders.
The aunts had left us a magazine and we laughed at the problem page, grew bored with the recipes. We watched the sudden breeze take the pages and ruffle them, until they bristled with stories not read.
We loved the aunts and those dreamy days. We never thought we would become them.
K. S. Moore
The current spell of hot weather reminded me of this piece of fiction, written a couple of years ago, but just redrafted. Although some might see the aunts as old fashioned or inhibited for merely rolling up their trousers, I think there is a freedom about the way they run into the sea. By contrast, the young girls left behind are far more passive and it seems, inevitably, not in control of their future.