{"id":329,"date":"2025-09-10T10:27:00","date_gmt":"2025-09-10T10:27:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/demo.everestthemes.com\/viable\/demo\/?p=329"},"modified":"2025-09-22T12:00:54","modified_gmt":"2025-09-22T12:00:54","slug":"women-on-the-beach-are-glorious","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/?p=329","title":{"rendered":"Women on the beach are glorious"},"content":{"rendered":"
The first light of dawn gilded the beach, turning the sand to liquid gold and painting the waves in soft pinks and oranges. I stood on the porch of our beach house, coffee in hand, and watched Lila\u2014her purple cap perched on her head, red shorts glowing in the sunrise\u2014as she bent to pick up a seashell. Her black curly hair fell over her shoulders, catching the light like threads of dark silk, and when she stood up, holding the shell up to the sky to inspect it, I felt my chest tighten. Women on the beach are glorious, I thought. But none more so than her.<\/div>\n
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She\u2019d woken up before me, whispering, \u201cI want to catch the sunrise\u2014come if you want, but I won\u2019t wake you,\u201d and I\u2019d smiled, rolling over to let her go. But I\u2019d followed ten minutes later, unable to miss the chance to see her in this light: relaxed, free, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand, her hands brushing over the waves as they lapped at the shore. She turned when she heard my steps, grinning, and held out the seashell\u2014a small, pearlescent one with a purple tint. \u201cFor the memory box,\u201d she said. I walked over, taking the shell and tucking it into my pocket, then wrapped my arm around her waist. \u201cYou look amazing,\u201d I said. She laughed, pushing me playfully. \u201cIt\u2019s just the sunrise,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd this old cap.\u201d I shook my head, kissing her cheek. \u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s you. Women on the beach are glorious\u2014but you? You\u2019re everything.\u201d<\/div>\n
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By mid-morning, the beach had woken up: families set up towels, kids laughed as they chased seagulls, and Mrs. Kosta waved at us from her spot near the driftwood. Lila had taken off her cap, letting her curls blow in the breeze, and was sitting on our six-pack towel, teaching Mrs. Kosta\u2019s granddaughter, Sofia, how to build a sandcastle. \u201cYou have to pack the sand tight,\u201d she said, showing Sofia how to press her hands into the pile. \u201cLike you\u2019re giving it a hug.\u201d Sofia giggled, copying Lila\u2019s movements, and I sat a little way off, sketchbook in hand, drawing them\u2014Lila\u2019s smile, Sofia\u2019s tiny hands, the way the sun hit their hair. Every few minutes, Lila would glance over at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and I\u2019d give her a thumbs-up. She\u2019d blush, turning back to Sofia, but her smile would stay, bright and warm.<\/div>\n
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\u201cWant a muffin?\u201d I called, holding up the container of banana muffins we\u2019d baked the night before. Lila nodded, taking one from me and breaking it in half to share with Sofia. They sat together, crumbs dusting their cheeks, and talked about the rose we\u2019d pressed\u2014Lila pulled the memory box from her beach bag, opening it to show Sofia the dried rose and the seashells we\u2019d collected. \u201cWe save the pretty things,\u201d she said, her voice soft. Sofia\u2019s eyes widened, and she held out a small rock she\u2019d found. \u201cCan we save this?\u201d she asked. Lila nodded, tucking the rock into the box. \u201cOf course,\u201d she said. \u201cEvery pretty thing deserves to be remembered.\u201d I watched them, my heart full, and thought again: Women on the beach are glorious. Not just for their beauty, but for the way they love\u2014softly, fiercely, making the world feel like a safer, sweeter place.<\/div>\n
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As the afternoon turned to evening, the beach quieted down. Sofia went home with Mrs. Kosta, waving goodbye, and Lila and I walked to our cove, hand in hand. She\u2019d put her cap back on, and her red shorts were covered in sand, but she didn\u2019t care. \u201cRemember when we found that wilted rose here?\u201d she said, stopping at the rocks where we\u2019d picked it. I nodded, squeezing her hand. \u201cYou said we\u2019d give it a new life,\u201d I said. She smiled, pulling the memory box from her bag and opening it to show me the pressed rose. \u201cWe did,\u201d she said. \u201cJust like we give each other new life, every day.\u201d We sat on the rocks, watching the sunset, and Lila leaned her head on my shoulder. The sky turned fiery orange, and her curls glowed, like she was lit from within.<\/div>\n
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\u201cWomen on the beach are glorious,\u201d I said, quietly. She looked up at me, her eyes soft. \u201cWhy did you say that?\u201d I kissed her, slow and deep, the taste of salt and banana muffins on her lips. \u201cBecause it\u2019s true,\u201d I said. \u201cBut mostly because you\u2019re here. You make the beach brighter, the sun warmer, the moments sweeter. You\u2019re my glorious woman.\u201d She laughed, tears shining in her eyes, and hugged me tight. \u201cYou\u2019re cheesy,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I love you.\u201d<\/div>\n
That night, we hung the new seashell from the morning on the porch, next to the lavender plants and the red mask. Lila sat on the swing, her purple cap in her lap, and I sat beside her, holding her hand. We talked about the day\u2014the sunrise, Sofia, the sandcastle\u2014and I told her again how glorious she was. She smiled, leaning into me, and we watched the stars come out, the sound of waves in the background.<\/div>\n
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Love isn\u2019t just about grand gestures or perfect moments. It\u2019s about seeing the glory in the person you love\u2014whether they\u2019re picking seashells at sunrise, teaching a little girl to build a sandcastle, or holding a pressed rose in their hands. It\u2019s about Lila, with her curly hair and her purple cap, her red shorts and her kind heart. It\u2019s about knowing that women on the beach are glorious\u2014but none more so than the one who\u2019s yours, forever.<\/div>\n
And as I held her close that night, I knew\u2014I\u2019d spend the rest of my life telling her how glorious she is. Every sunrise, every sunset, every moment in between. Exactly how she deserves.<\/div>\n
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The first light of dawn gilded the beach, turning the sand to liquid gold and painting the waves in soft pinks and oranges. I stood on the porch of our beach house, coffee in hand, and watched Lila—her purple cap perched on her head, red shorts glowing in the sunrise—as she bent to pick up…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":34,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[2],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/329"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=329"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/329\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":629,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/329\/revisions\/629"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/34"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=329"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=329"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=329"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}