Beach Day

sea-beach-footprint-steps

By Susan D. Durham

Allie pokes her head out the car window. Wind whips her pig tails and drowns out Dad’s terrible singing.  Everything smells like oranges.

They’re off to the beach.

Mom hands out sticks of Juicy Fruit. The scent, mixed with oranges, makes Allie dizzy for things she doesn’t understand.

At the beach, she walks long with Dad. He smells like beer, and talks about things he needs. Allie doesn’t understand. She picks up a perfectly formed dead seahorse; drops it gently into Dad’s empty bottle. He keeps walking.

At sunset, when he doesn’t return, Mom cries. And Allie still doesn’t understand.

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15 thoughts on “Beach Day

  1. Nice story. I love how it’s understated, but still gets the point across. In a sense, it reminds me of Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”, where the subject is never said outright, but you know what they’re talking about. Good job. Masterful.

    Liked by 1 person

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