The waves are easy going, lapping dog like at the sandy beach.
It is a bland colorless moment, neither sunny nor cloudy, neither day nor night. Perhaps it is early morning, or more likely a space I have created forgetful of time.
It has that February quality, the feel of something ready to burst with life but not yet alive. An unborn newness and sweetness.
Standing with her feet in the water I see my sister, a stranger with familiar mannerisms.
Not far off, her boy friend is lifting something out of the water with a long set of tongs, the type you would use to tend a fire. It takes a moment for me to recognize his catch: a live crab.
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