Every summer, we spend long days at Monmouth Beach, New Jersey — hours that blur into the steady rhythm of the tide. I carry my film cameras along with the beach bags and boogie boards, documenting this season with my kids the way I know best. These are the images I want them to have one day: photographs that will remind them of me, of their childhood summers, and of how things once were.
PJ often says, “But Mom, you’re not in them.” He’s right — I’m usually behind the camera. But I hope they’ll still find me here, in the way I notice them and in the small fragments of summer that feel worth remembering.

Crowds, umbrellas, and the hum of summer on the beach.


Sunbathing, bubble wands, boogie boards — the rituals of a good beach day.




The summer they lost their fear of the ocean and really enjoyed being tossed around by the waves.






Moments of quiet — drying off, warming in the sun, and watching the surfers.







The little things I notice — wet hair, bright colors, fruit on the beach — fragments of summer that stay with me.





The slow unwinding of a beach day: sandy hair and cold rinses.





The quietest truths of summer — They won’t really pose anymore and don’t like being asked to take photos, so these images remind me of how quickly they’re changing. This is who they are right now.

Summer on Monmouth Beach always feels both endless and fleeting. The days stretch long, but when I look at the film scans, summer 2025 already feels like a memory.
This is how I remember. And maybe one day, it’s how they’ll remember me too.
Part Two coming soon.