Time

Time. I certainly miss the ol’ gal, how quickly she blurred past me. If only I had grabbed hold and not taken so much for granted. If only… As I look at these young children gala-vanting around, so lacking of the care and worry my aging mind has incurred. Oh, the envy I feel, looking upon such innocence, unencumbered by the hardships in life to come.

            I remember it like it was yesterday, when my sweet, naïve mother first took me to the beach. I remember so well, perhaps, because I was not as young as most children’s first experiences. My birthplace was many miles away from a beach, any beach. After my foolish father, rest his soul, got himself killed though, we ended up moving to a small tow on the coastline of Virginia. My first time at the beach was amazing, for me anyway, like I said my mother was stricken with a strong case of naiveté. I ran into mischief at every turn, and mother was unrightfully dealt my punishment.

            Today, as I look back upon that, it creates a horrible felling of regret and remorse.  For, I didn’t know it at the time, but my mother was destroyed by my father’s death. It was almost as if he took my mother’s spirit with him. Before my father’s death she was happy-go-lucky. When they were married, she was still a very young girl, and although they were betrothed, she loved him ever so much. When I look upon these children, the gleam in their eye, I see my mother.

            She birthed me at the ripe age of seventeen. She was still only a girl, but despite that she was one of the most mature women you could come across. Sadly, when my father passed on, similar to her spirit, he took with him the gleam in her eye.

            I can’t help but think that I was part of the reason she lost her innocence, her love of life. The more I stand here, looking at this beach, I long for my teen years. As I was slowly making my progress through adolescence and the trials and tribulations of puberty, I met the sweetest of all cookies on this very beach. That may sound as if I’m trying to be metaphoric, but Cookie was truly my first love’s name. Well, in actuality it was only her nickname, I forget her real name. My memory, like my body, is rapidly deteriorating.

            Cookie and I had the time of our lives on this beach. She was the first girl I ever kissed. Back then, even to this day in fact, I felt very embarrassed that she was, for I was seventeen. My other friends had stories of such things as early as their preteen years. Now that I think about it, my mother had a baby at the same age as I had my first kiss. My! I shouldn’t speak so loosely about that dear woman, haven’t I done enough!

            I long so much to return to those days once again, and cherish them far more than I did then. There is one time, however, that I’m very glad has passed, my mother’s death. She was still so young, only thirty-eight. That event, along with the notable points of my life, occurred on this beach.

            I was twenty-one then, and I had come here with my pals to celebrate my coming of age. Boy howdy did we get liquored up. I was drunk as a snake. It was the more exciting, and dreadfully regretful times of my life, all at once. My mother was unaware of my plans and came looking for me the place she knew I’d be. As she entered the beach, she saw me and all my buddies, drunk as we were, making fools of ourselves. I for one was the worst, shouting curses, singing vulgar bar songs, everything you could imagine. My poor mother’s heart could not take any more; she went into cardiac arrest right there. She wasn’t found until morning……I never drank again.

            Well, I believe that must end my reminiscence. I’m too tired continue. It has gotten very hot out here, maybe I’ll rest. Let me just take this … seat… (Cough)… right... he……

Word Count: 711