A Print in the Sand

I remember I loved the beach. As an only child, mum and dad took every day.

I don’t like the sand or the waves, I hated how it traces their features – footsteps and then the water filled it before I could.

You’ll fill our steps one day, my parents would say.

Five years? Ten years?

But before then, there was an accident in the surf, their steps led to the ocean and then faded away.

The night before my son turns six, he steps in mine and asks, “Will I leave my mark like yours dad?”

I hold him – Yes.

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