On his wedding day I’m up
head for the beach early
waves still inconveniently high
salt mist, noticeably thick
coats my skin, but not unpleasant
a good day here, apart from the surf
and as it is a wedding
I focus on here, now

While I collect myself
Jack surprises
beside me for a run
then we walk
our son still back in the room
on the roll-away, needs sleep
nearly twenty

So long since we had an excuse
to sleep together in one room
a cozy family, the bed too big
for the two of us

We walk collect shells
he secrets one behind a log
for our return
I use my blue bandana
cart the ones I find

Roam, zig, inspect the dunes
bits of driftwood
he finds a conch skeleton
all of its inner curves
on view, smooth edge
bleached pink
the best shell we find
he gives to me

We turn and head back
collect the shells buried
till the pouch is full
nothing whole, pieces
I put them in the pail
that says, “Cottage Rentals”
Our room is full of sand