Headed straight from the plane to the water this time. The late afternoon sun turned everything it touched to red-orange. Even the surfers were painted in a glow. They looked like little streaks of fire peaking out from the creases the water makes with gravity. It’s my favorite thing to watch them wait. Looking for a catch or maybe something epic. Reminds me of when we’d pack into the old Volvo with our long boards. My dad ditching work early to pick us up for a few waves. The water looked green some days depending on my place in the sand. I’d watch the ebb and flow until the sun went down or until he’d worn himself out. We ran into our old neighbors on the way back yesterday. They’re grandparents now. Their four boys all turned men. I remember the tire swing and their shrill voices leaking from the tree house. Chasing my brother down the street while he skated figure eights around the cul-de-sac. We used to wear ourselves out on the asphalt until the flickering streetlamps cued us inside. Back when most of our years were stacked so far into the distance they seemed infinite. But the time slipped away like sand this year. It hit me on the road. My last drive for a while. The sun was burning red through my windshield, heating up every part of me. I pulled over just in time to watch it slip away behind the blue horizon.
