I had a bit different idea of how things would go when I booked this trip. Digging deep holes to China. Creating sand castles so large we could live in them. Finding buried treasure. Sending notes in bottles to sea for others to find. Creating forts out of driftwood. My kids are too big for that stuff now.

The weather reports were wrong; it was blue skies and warm weather on the coast, not the wind and heavy rains they predicted. So we were set to have fun.

RV camping isn’t really camping though. Regardless of what the weather may have been, we had a warm, dry place to go and sleep every night, with plenty of food. We spent our evenings around the campfire or inside playing card games. During the days we walked the beach, watched the dog play in the surf, and my sister got to sit and dig holes in the sand. It was a good trip.

But throughout the days my mind wandered as I walked, and memories of a time spent searching for the perfect sand dollar came to me. I had wondered if I could do that again. Seeing it replay in my minds eye, the swirl of the surf, the shadow of the correct shape, the pattern of my steps as I ran to catch it. Then reaching down, just in time, to free it from the intent of the ocean. I Looked at it in my hand in amazement. Unbelieving of what I held. Heaven smiled on me that day. Truly. I’ll never forget it. Nor will I ever duplicate it, apparently; because for two days I walked that beach and I couldn’t find one sand dollar that hadn’t been broken.

Then evening would come and while the others were tucked in to sleep, I’d walk the beach under the light of the moon, alone. Conversations between me and that man on there developed. Time seemed to slip away. The sound of the waves seemed to be farther and farther away, until I could barely hear them. There would be no lighthouse lit on that beach by me, that night. The ships lost at sea are welcome to continue chasing water falls, for all I care. Davy Jones will have his due soon enough. My thoughts were on the sea. Dark hair and tan skin. Calypso…I could hear her voice in the wind. Beckoning me. She calls to me, from across the ocean.

So, 80 and fishtales home. Back to ferrying those souls; until enough time is passed, and my duty is done for a time.

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