We walked along the beach slowly, holding hands.  Over my bathing suit I had a loose, light sarong, blowing in the gentle wind.  I carried my sandals in my hand, while he gripped the other.  His hands were strong and gentle, and nothing was better than when he held my hand in his own.
The smell of the ocean was everywhere, and the sound of the waves was unceasing, and we were silent as we walked.  The late afternoon sun hung over us, threatening to leave us in the dark, but it seemed to smile while is threatened, with a promise: we had all of the time in the world.
The were nothing but the ocean on my right, and nothing of consequence on my left except for the sand and him.  He smiled at me when I looked his way, and I smiled back.  Nothing but the beach was behind us, and nothing but beach ahead of us.  We could have walked for hours and never found the end of the beach, of the sand that gave way beneath our feet, of the ocean that was so calming, of the simple bliss we had then.
At an unspoken and unseen agreement, we stopped and looked at the ocean.  There is nothing that can describe an ocean at sunset, so I will not try.  I will only say that the ocean was beautiful, and everything seemed perfect.
With his arms around me, he whispered words in my ear.  He had said them to me a million times if he'd said them once, and he would say them a million more times later, but nothing would ever make me forget or disregard that particular time when he said to me in his wonderful way, "I love you."
-Elizabeth Anne Radcliffe