august on the beach

The heat was dying down. The tide pushing in gently.

“Run old man, run!” My daughter cackled at me as I ascended the dune.

“Bring me water!”

I snarled and pumped my arms wildly, simulating the last stretch of my marathon across the desert.

“Run old man, run!”

I negotiated the living room. The debris and obstacles were my enemies. Books, clothes, video games, discarded movie cases, empty water bottles, and the most painful, skateboards that smacked the shins like bamboo canes. I went down hard.

“Daddy are you okay?” A face emerged from behind the monitor. The glow from the screen made the boy’s eyes more hollow than they actually were from the hours of dedicated video gaming. The smile was half maniacal, half technologically-induced insomnia. This was the end result of hours of adventuring through silicon crystals.

“Ummm..damn…yeah.”

“Get up old man.”

The body was fierce but the soul was damaged. The necessary elements were acquired. Water bottle, full, cold, sunscreen, applied, again, cold malt beverage, refilled, sunglasses, lost, refound, lost, and on the way across the back porch, the little blue beach bucket for the daughter’s gathering of “sea treasures.”

“Hi…hi…hi!” she sang.

“A pirate’s life for me,” I accompanied.

“Hoy…hoy…hoy,” she continued.

“chicken wings and grease?” A song that had been written another day. Trust me, it’s good, we thought.

The sun was setting on yet another perfect August night. The day had been mild. Mild for summer at least. The water, cool, crisp, and inviting, made for the much needed baptism after my day in the trenches and their day without.

An osprey flies overhead, scanning the bay for fish. A good omen. The daughter has reached the far jetty, in hopes of finding the elusive artifact not already in her collection. The son battles mythical Microsoft-driven monsters with allies in the cyber universe. A seagull cackles his dominance, his battle cry for the 6th View. The old man sits in the rusty, weathered chair, feeling its strength fading and its end near. At least, it made it through the summer.