The Beginning. . .Not The End

I hurried across the hot sand where my granddaughter age five, sat on a blanket smiling widely at a gray  haired man with two little boys in tow.  The small ice chest I carried bumped against my leg guaranteed to leave yet another bruise on aging skin. Unless the stranger collected small kids for evil purposes, my little Patti seemed just fine.

“I’m Ralph Berg and these fine boys are my grand sons.” Right away the boys displayed their trucks and shovels.

As I straightened our blanket, sun chairs and clamped umbrellas, I wished they would all take another piece of real estate on the beach and move on. I’m a widow for God Sake;  can’t this Ralph person tell I’m in mourning from my black swim suit?

for delightful snippets, tune in:

TNBTE V 2 all three formats for announcement

39 thoughts on “The Beginning. . .Not The End

  1. I have a black swimsuit. I had better buy a shocking pink one, or I will be giving off the wrong message! I love your sentence about him taking up another piece of real estate on the beach, but somehow I don’t think he will. Enjoy the rest of summer.

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