The wind and sand blew away her childhood days of baby-soft grains between tiny toes and sticky fingers, popsicles melting on worn beach blankets, lady sun burning anything in her path. Lindy used the beach as her escape, her four little ducklings waddling behind her, carrying shovels and buckets.
When her first son was born, she’d taken him to the sea once he was old enough to be propped up in the sand. The soft lull of gentle breezes eased him into afternoon naps, something she’d always struggled to do. They played hide and seek in the tall sea grass. Lindy hated to admit it, but the colorful memory of those cherished moments had always caused her to feel a stronger fondness for her firstborn.
And the first little girl was born, running wild and free along the shore without a care in the world. Mother sun kissed her fair skin, leaving behind trickling trails of freckles, which she’d eventually come to loathe. But Lindy reassured her that they were only summer’s teardrops, lingering as a reminder of the fun-filled days during the chilly winter months.
Later on she found herself carting all four of her beloved children to the beach, after the twins were born. Their round bellies were stained with orange popsicle drippings, melting in their tiny, chubby hands. Their skin smelled of sea salt and sunscreen. Most of these long days she opted to lounge in her low-slung beach chair, watching her small children play in the lazy ocean waves, always making sure four blonde heads were visible in the water.
But these were only memories, days long since passed. Her children had grown up and out of the seaside cottage, now with small families of their own. Walter, her husband, had passed away almost a decade ago of natural causes. She’d prayed for weeks that God would take her too.
Every summer her children would come home to her again. Her eldest with a wife of six years and two children of his own, her little girl (still wild as ever), and the twins, who’d just graduated from college. They’d spend hours on the beach as they’d done years ago, allowing Lindy to enjoy time with her children once more.
During her final days, Lindy found her heart longing for the shore. She’d been contained within the same four walls for almost two years, unable to walk more than a room’s length at a time. Boxes of pictures surrounded her on her twin-size bed, and she rifled through them, lifting them into the light and holding the fond memories close to her heart.
For the final time, she shuffled down her two front stairs, wearing a nightgown. She felt alive, the rushing sound of waves calling to her like an old friend, and the sand feeling familiar between her toes as she kicked off her slippers. The watermelon sunset had never looked so delicious, urging her forward.
Becoming tired, she curled up in the lush sea grass. As she looked up to the sky, she knew her time had come, queen sun stretching out a hand to take her away. It was here where she grew up, here where she raised her own, and here where she would find her last hour, the gentle breeze whisking her away.