Prologue

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Isn’t it funny how certain moments get caught in your head and replay over and over again?  It’s like knowing two lines to a song and somehow you manage to sing those two lines for an hour.

                We were on the beach at Uncle Tom and Auntie Amaya’s house.  Having arrived in the early morning in a flurry of sunhats, new bikinis and , we were now in the sunset of the day.  Mom and Dad were sitting on the beach blanket, snuggled together, huddled under Dad’s old college blanket.  Mom’s fingers wound themselves through Dad’s and she smiled up at him, as if they were sitting there for the first time.  Uncle Tom was starting the fire pit, his red hair blazing in the setting sun, making him seem to be alight with flames.  Auntie was in the house, up the pathway of little lights and seashells, grabbing a set of plastic wine glasses and as many bottles as she could fit in her linen bag.  No typical New England teetotalers in this house.  I wondered if I would be allowed a small glass again.  Now eighteen, I was offered wine occasionally with dinner and this seemed a perfect day for it.  I was half asleep with the sun and sea anyway. 

                In the water, Michaela and our cousin Alex were searching for clams with their toes.  The water was just too deep for their twelve year old legs to stand comfortably and they laughed and spluttered together as they made twin face of terror and delight.  Alex’s blond curls ducked under the water for a moment and came up again, triumphant.  “Twenty!”  she called, waving it in the air.  As her arms waved wildly, she lost her grip and the small treasure flew out of her hands and behind her to plop back into the depths.  Giggling, she turned to Michaela and they continued their search.

                I was sitting on the beach watching the little boys in the tide pools.  They bent their heads together over a small squid that had somehow washed up with the tide and gotten trapped.  Now they poked and prodded and Nathan looked almost sad for it, before he picked it up and brought it to the blanket where my parents and now Uncle Tom and Auntie sat.  Kush plodded over put his arm around Auntie’s neck, standing with his belly out and his thumb in his mouth.  It was hard to believe that he was three now.  The layers of infancy seemed to melt before our eyes and leave a small boy in their absence. 

                Looking down I picked through the gritty sand, forever searching for the tiniest of shells.  The delicacy of them always took my breath away.  I wanted to horde them, but I knew that the more I had, the more normal they would seem and that would spoil the magic.  So I made myself stop at one.  One tiny perfect shell to put on my shelf at home.  My red-capped toes dug into the sand and I brushed the sand fleas from my legs.  Absently, my hands twisted through my hair, trying vainly to tame the wild mess that the salt and wind had created.  I looked up and saw Auntie looking at me.  She grinned at me, her teeth gleaming in the half-light and her rosy dark cheeks bright with the glow of the fire and the glass of wine in her hands.  She gestured toward me with the glass and I grinned back, knowing that I was going to be allowed to be a grown-up tonight instead of the queen of the littles.