Leaving the beach for the last time. Summer is over. The end of the long Labor Day weekend. The last hurrah. The last swim in the cold waters of the Cape. Drying off and warming up. Waves coming in gently seem to coax me to come in for one more dive through their transparent tops, white foam on the curling edge. Calling to the roaming black lab, he comes panting back from his swim, shaking the last of the water from his coat. Laughing, he begs me to throw just one more stick, one more chance to plunge in and retrieve and lunge back to me, wet and dripping, the prize still hanging from his mouth. No more. No more time. The sun is beginning to set. And it is time to say a final goodbye.
Just as I am climbing up the steep path to the parking lot, I reach in my pocket and find two smooth beach stones. I love to collect these as I walk along the shore. The water worn surfaces speak of endless hours of being rolled and tumbled in the surf, for months and perhaps years. Looking at them I say a silent thank-you for the privilege of being able to enjoy this stolen time away from the world of the commonplace. The memory of the wind blowing my hair. The feel of the sun on my face. The cry of the gulls and the sigh of the sea.
The life of the world is waiting when I leave here. Some of the peace I feel now will go with me as I go back to work. Holding the stones in my hand I say good-bye, placing them on a near-by fence post.
Without a backward look I call the dog and he comes running, eager to be on to a new adventure. I think about what tomorrow will bring. Back to the daily routine. Work and responsibility call me. The sun is setting. Day is coming to an end. I start the car and pull out onto the familiar road home.
Behind me, on the top of the fence post sit two smooth stones.
A good-bye gift to summer.
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