William Scott Dale (putthekettleon) wrote in genome_project, @ 2012-04-08 16:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | april 2012 |
Who: William Dale and Lucy Dale
What: A date
When: Friday evening
Where: Crescent Beach
Rating: Low
Will didn't remember when was the last time he'd been to the beach. It seemed like a million years ago. He half-expected the sand to be all eroded from the waves constantly pounding down on it. Oddly though, it looked just as it did in his memory. The smells were the same too, of salt and sun tan lotion. And the sound of the waves rolling in reminded him of Alan. Alan. Will allowed himself to close his eyes for a brief moment. He hadn't thought about Alan is such a long time, almost as long as when he'd last visited the beach. So much had happened in the last few years that Will barely had time to think about himself, much less his dead little brother. Could he even remember the sound of his voice? Was his memory so bad?
By the time Will opened his eyes again, he had decided two very important things. Come tomorrow morning, he would go down to the cemetery to visit Alan's grave. And... the next time he was to come to this beach, he would bring his kids with him. No one should go along in their life without seeing the beach at least a few times. The sound of someone approaching brought Will back into the present moment of the sea breeze nudging him as gently as an old friend. He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly though he did not otherwise move.
"You know. Maybe I was wrong about Montana," he said almost to himself in a somewhat sad voice. "There aren't any beaches in Montana."