I open a shoebox labeled VACATIONS
photographs fall out together comingling
generations. Sunburned faces atop wet
bathing suits smile back at me. I swim into the past
Visits to the beach, the ocean roared
onto shore. An old ramshackle beach house
where laughter lived. My children fought
over sandcastles, how I long to live close to them now
If I could only smell the salt air, I would dream
of tomorrow. I have questions with no answers.
Will I return to the beach some day?
Will my children share the same sunset?
I grasp the thin stem of a wine glass and savor
the oak flavor of the chardonnay within. In dark
recesses, images flicker like an old movie.
Scenes of shifting days through my mind
Sand whips across the dune, seagrass stands tall
against a blue sky, seagulls squawk overhead,
and jellyfish wash up in the surf. I set down my
wine glass and return to now.