And Then I saw

And then I saw two people walking along a beach: a man and a woman. They were wearing shorts and over-sized t-shirts. On one t-shirt was an image of a heavenly banquet and on the other t-shirt was an image of a great beast. As they walked along the beach the man was trying to explain the balk rule and was doing so badly that he was confusing himself. Around them children played in the surf: frisbees, surf boards, beach balls, kites all bounded from one body to another, filling the air. Dogs romped up and down the wet sand, large ones with lots of hair, while smaller dogs were on leashes yipping at the surf tickling their paws. Under large beach umbrellas sat men and women reading books and drinking beer. Some were sleeping, emulating the color of lobsters - perhaps for a pageant later that evening. Radios blared, but all sound was engulfed by the sound of the waves crashing and the wind blowing.
I went back toward the beach house. I showered off my sand caked feet and my sunscreen irritated eyes. How hot my head was. I went inside the house. It was dark and cool and I became aware that the TV was on. On the couch was a half-finished New York Times crossword from Sunday. I could not remember what Wilde might have said in the Literary Review. I thought that I would just grab a Corona with some lemon and then head back out to the beach. I remembered that I hadn't come to the beach to stay inside all day. As I looked back out toward the ocean I saw a fishing boat, a charter, and I remembered a picture of my grandfather, standing with a catch of Snapper, eyes glistening with life, on Daytona Beach in 1956. Fish would be good. I pushed the lemon into the Corona and took my first swig. Happy I walked back across the wooden walkway and onto the hot sand. Over head flew a large white kite with an image I couldn't make out.