A Lament To The Great Beyond

Here is a little excerpt from a story I wrote a while back with a reference to my cousin Fran. Fran passed away way too early. Life is about living and I can’t get my mind around not doing that. Having just made it through a heart attack I think of this often. The visions become murky. Happy Birthday Fran

So we would march down to the beach in our brand new clothing to look at the ocean. Usually by now it was just starting to get dark. We would find a few horseshoe crabs, dig up some sand fleas and then find some perfect wood for bonfires later in the week. This kept us occupied for all of about eighteen minutes. Usually our beloved cousin Fran would roll up his shorts and wade out up to his ankles looking for ocean treasures. Either that, or he was one with this ritual of summer. As the air-cooled, the water felt that much warmer. The ritual would simply unfold soon after. After about twenty minutes, we were swimming in the ocean attired in our slick new travelling clothes feeling pretty good.