“The waves rolled in to the concrete beach painted the color of sand. Small children rode the water to the shore, and there among the heads was Gaétan. My son’s face, wide-eyed and afraid. The water pushed him to where he could touch the bottom and he stood, laughing. He raised his fists in the air and shouted, like a man who wins a boxing match, tired and happy. He ran back into the waves. I breathed again. There was still the feeling in my lungs, stopping the air to my chest, but it was melting.
“The dog had grown stiff in my arms. I looked for my daughter and saw her run across the painted beach into the water, her young body in a black bathing suit shining with wet. I leaned my head against the green glass, the warm dog still against my chest. I said thank you for my children and listened to the rushing of the waves that did not stop but came and came again.”
—Maile Meloy, from “Aqua Boulevard”
Art Credit Mary Ellen Bartley
