You were drafted after great misfortune. I remember the story, which ends in you returning home, falling in love, moving to cold salty air, and creating what created me. As we walk side by side, I ponder all the ways I can go about creating meaning like you do. Waves crash.

You pick up a holey shell. “Holy shell,” you say. This kills me. You give me the sacred object and I swear to keep it under my bed until it’s turned to sand. You laugh. Then I laugh because you laugh.

You said we should write a book together. I could draw and you could watercolor. “Freebie and the Pink Seagull,” you said we should call it. You told me how the main character’s real name is Phoebe, but her grandparents call her Freebie because she loves to help them cut out coupons. The pink seagull, who becomes friends with Freebie, is real. You met it years ago. You remember it vividly. You remember its soft red wings. You remember its sharp aviation skills. I imagine its knowing smirk. I imagine its telling winks. You remember Mardy leaving dough balls out for it on the deck. You remember you both throwing them up in the air. You hoped it would see dough balls as offerings. You hoped it would bring you coins from a lost treasure chest, one that only a bird could find. “It still could,” I say. You laugh. Then I laugh because you laugh.

You point out which houses you helped build. I imagine myself living in them. I’m on stilts. I’m throwing dough balls in the air. I’m smiling at the wind with closed eyes and my chin up in the sky. I imagine myself as Freebie. I feel free hoping. And strangely enough I even feel free following your very footsteps.

You go quiet. Then I go quiet because you go quiet. We make curved lines over the sand. The sun sets. My soft toes tickle. Slowly we walk together both barefoot and with years between us. Between us lay holy shells which I find I can no longer keep my eyes off. I offer you my hand and you take it. And taken by the sound of the waves, and the fading horizon, we sit and watch in silence.

To Mardy and Hal from Mary. With love always.