Momentary Memories

They came to the beach every summer.
A long list of temporary friends, short lived companions.
Kids for me to play with for a week or two.
Just long enough to form an attachment,
to want to stay in touch. To write letters after
all of us headed home to various places.
Every child had at least one sibling.
I had none. I was lonely and felt deprived.
After they left I bought comic books.
Colorful pages to hide my emptiness and
salty tears. The same scenario played out year
after year until I was too old to care.
But I often wonder what happened to them.
I guess if they’re living, they are old like me.
I wonder if they’ve continued their love of the
ocean like I have.
Do they watch their children’s children
ride the waves and build sand castles
that reach toward the sky?
I wonder if they remember a little girl with
strawberry blonde hair who held out hope in her crystal blue eyes.

12-25