Summertime reading

I have a summertime ritual of rereading a bunch of Anne Tyler books. I read them at the beach as a young adult every summer, sitting under an umbrella avoiding the sun. It was a ritual my mom and I had, and we'd switch books as we finished them. My favorite was always Ladder of Years, followed closely by Searching for Caleb. I'd sometimes read those two or three times in one summer. They haunted my imagination with their poignant love stories and both reverence for and rejection of tradition.
My moms favorites were Accidental Tourist and The Tin Can tree. I think she related to the kooky love story, and the concept of the death of a child was intensely personal to her, as she'd just miscarried a little while before we started doing this. We wouldn't only read them on the beach, sometimes we'd read them on our summer porch with tea, but that's the memory re-reading those books brings up. Sitting next to my mom, surrounded by the large group of kids we always had with us, the smell of tangy salt and sunblock, the gritty feel of sand, the intense warmth of the sun on my feet reminding me it was time to move the umbrella. One or the other of us laughing every now and then, looking over and knowing exactly what part the other was laughing at based on where they were in the book, or sniffling discretely at the sad parts.

I haven't started reading them yet this summer, as I haven't been to the beach yet and it feels wrong to start them without that initiation. But I'm looking forward to it. There are few things in the world that remind me more vividly of the bond I have with my mom than reading those books, even if it's not with her next to me.