Time draws me ever closer to the inevitable. Tear streaks dry on my misshapen face, forming a thin film over the painful contortions of my flesh. I sigh, step out of the car, and open the back door. Sand crunches beneath my feet. The slick, dark crests of the ocean roll and bend a short distance away. Remembrance ebbs back to me with the ripple-veiled clarity of languid surf; possibility gapes ahead of me like the far horizon of the sea on that dry, cloudless day that I first met Lynna Marish more than two decades ago. * * * * * A full-grown horseshoe crab lay wedged in a tiny gully among the rocks. It bobbed in the lapping water. I crept down the slick boulders, stretching across the last length of space to reach the crab, struggling to keep my feet dry. Today was the first day of school, and Mom would kill me if I came home for breakfast with my new shoes soaked. She hadn’t wanted me to go down to the beach, but I couldn’t resist on such a beautiful morning.
