SPARKLING IN THE SAND

This week I took a lunchtime walk on the beach to send birthday greetings to my dad and wish my parents a happy anniversary. Their ashes were scattered off Santa Cruz but I know the currents have carried them up here to enjoy our bay. After 45 years of marriage, I’m sure they’re still out there together. Someone’s dad, or maybe grandpa was fishing off the jetty, reminding me of my dad. He would take us fishing off the SC wharf or occasionally the cement ship in Aptos. But on his own, he would fish from the rocks or in the surf.

I’m missing both my folks these days, the smell of Dad’s pipe filled with Cherry-Blend tobacco, my Mom humming along with Tony Bennett in the kitchen as she prepared dinner. And from her, I got my love of "puttering" in the garden. They would have enjoyed watching the girls grow up. My mom would have made that “ssssssst” sound (accompanied by a very sharp inhale), with a death-grip on the dash as Gloria learns to drive but would have given her a big hug when they made it safely to their destination. Probably would have bought her an ice cream to boot. And Dad would have taken them fishing.