The beginning of something...
The old man moved slowly along his garden path, toward the gate that led to the warm tropical sea. He could taste the salt in the air, and for a moment, something else - something that touched his memory in its deepest recesses. A ghost of a smile played across his lips as he pushed his way out into the sweltering August heat.
On the beach, some hundred yards distant, he could just see his daughter, her auburn hair whipped about by the breeze coming in off the ocean. Smaller still was the bobbing form among the waves. Though his eyesight was failing, his ears still caught the peals of childish laughter ringing out. His granddaughter reminded him so much of her mother, and her mother's mother. She might have been a fish in another life, or so he liked to think. He made his way toward them with care, his aging form not able to move as nimbly as it once had.
"Grandfather!"
He laughed aloud, lifting a hand in greeting to first the little girl and then his daughter. They were all smiles as he reached them.
"Hello, my darlings," he said.
"Hello, father," his daughter replied, smiling broadly when her daughter ran up to hug him. "Sarah, don't get your grandfather wet."
"It's all right, Katie," he chuckled, waving a hand.
A little stiffly, he picked Sarah up and swung her around once before they both settled on the blanket Katie had spread over the sand. A picnic basket sat at one corner, filled with treats for them all. Katie withdrew a bottle of wine and two glasses and filling them, handed one to her father.
With a twinkle in his eye, the old man looked at his daughter.
"Have you seen the little mermaid I told you about?"
At that, Sarah's eyes grew wide as saucers and she sat forward, eager to hear whatever stories her grandfather might tell.
"She had the prettiest blonde curls I've ever seen," he continued, "and blue-green eyes like the ocean."
Sarah giggled and he winked at her, tapping her nose with his index finger.
"She looked an awful lot like you."
The little girl laughed again and shifted so that she could lean against her grandfather while they talked. Reaching up to play with the water-logged ribbon that held her hair back, she looked up at him imploringly.
"Mother said you would tell us a story about grandmother today," Sarah said. "She told me it was a secret and that I couldn't tell anyone if you did. I promise I won't. Tell us, please!"
The man looked at his daughter briefly. Her eyes mirrored the curiosity in Sarah's. For a moment, he regretted never telling her about her mother. But then, it was something painful to recall. It was a story that haunted his dreams, and there were times that he wondered whether or not it had all been real. When he looked at Katie, there was no denying the truth. She was every inch her mother, a woman he had both loved and hated with all his heart.
On the beach, some hundred yards distant, he could just see his daughter, her auburn hair whipped about by the breeze coming in off the ocean. Smaller still was the bobbing form among the waves. Though his eyesight was failing, his ears still caught the peals of childish laughter ringing out. His granddaughter reminded him so much of her mother, and her mother's mother. She might have been a fish in another life, or so he liked to think. He made his way toward them with care, his aging form not able to move as nimbly as it once had.
"Grandfather!"
He laughed aloud, lifting a hand in greeting to first the little girl and then his daughter. They were all smiles as he reached them.
"Hello, my darlings," he said.
"Hello, father," his daughter replied, smiling broadly when her daughter ran up to hug him. "Sarah, don't get your grandfather wet."
"It's all right, Katie," he chuckled, waving a hand.
A little stiffly, he picked Sarah up and swung her around once before they both settled on the blanket Katie had spread over the sand. A picnic basket sat at one corner, filled with treats for them all. Katie withdrew a bottle of wine and two glasses and filling them, handed one to her father.
With a twinkle in his eye, the old man looked at his daughter.
"Have you seen the little mermaid I told you about?"
At that, Sarah's eyes grew wide as saucers and she sat forward, eager to hear whatever stories her grandfather might tell.
"She had the prettiest blonde curls I've ever seen," he continued, "and blue-green eyes like the ocean."
Sarah giggled and he winked at her, tapping her nose with his index finger.
"She looked an awful lot like you."
The little girl laughed again and shifted so that she could lean against her grandfather while they talked. Reaching up to play with the water-logged ribbon that held her hair back, she looked up at him imploringly.
"Mother said you would tell us a story about grandmother today," Sarah said. "She told me it was a secret and that I couldn't tell anyone if you did. I promise I won't. Tell us, please!"
The man looked at his daughter briefly. Her eyes mirrored the curiosity in Sarah's. For a moment, he regretted never telling her about her mother. But then, it was something painful to recall. It was a story that haunted his dreams, and there were times that he wondered whether or not it had all been real. When he looked at Katie, there was no denying the truth. She was every inch her mother, a woman he had both loved and hated with all his heart.