Observations

Author: Serris ( KRWalker@sdandi.net )
Editor: SLWatson
Guinea Pig: CaptainBuzzLightyear

Disclaimer: He doesn't belong to me, I just borrowed him from Thomas Harris.

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I recently traveled to the beach, not too far outside Venice, California. It was the proverbial perfect day, with crystal clear blue sky and the bleached beach sand, but there was something that seemed to bother me. The beach was empty -- it wasn't the warmest day California had seen -- and I had thought that maybe it would be a nice time to walk the beach. I was wrong.

It had been a long time since I had been back to California, and the air was humid. It wasn't the dry heat that I was used to as of late, and the moisture hung in the air, choking me. I loosened my collar, making sure that the top button was undone, and then pulled off my sandals, remembering how the sand felt between my toes. It was a gritty feeling, almost abrasive, but I had grown used to it over the years. It was just a minor irritation now.

As I walked down the beach, I took in the scenery, watching a few seagulls hop around, calling to each other and fighting over a dead fish. It was a dismal scene, actually, as I thought that there were so many fish swimming just beneath the surface, and these two birds were fighting over one who had expired. Wouldn't it have just been easier to find food farther down the beach? I suppose their survival instincts wouldn't allow them to give up their find.

I passed a college student, sunbathing in the sand, but neither she nor I paid each other any mind. Instead, I was more transfixed by a set of people a good two hundred yards down the beach. The first thing I had seen of them was a white and red umbrella, held loosely in a chubby hand. Polka dots followed that, and instantly I was saddened yet again. Why, though?

Taking the opportunity to observe "life in its natural habitat," I walked even closer to the woman, noting that she had a little boy with her. I sat in the sand maybe twenty five yards behind them, not at all guilty for staring. They probably would have done the same if given the opportunity.

The little boy was gleeful and plump. He started towards the edge of the water and looked back at his mother. He was probably wondering if he was allowed to go back in the water. She shook her head slowly, readjusting her grip on the umbrella. At this point, I bothered to roll up the pant legs and then rested my elbows on my knees. I was wondering where this boy's father was; I wasn't close enough to see if this woman was wearing a ring, but from what I could tell, she was probably a single mother, raising her child in the same way she had been raised. Maybe that was why they looked so alike. For a moment, I thought back to those seagulls, then shook my head for thinking it.

I used to have a son. He went away with my wife, and it pained me to think of it. He wasn't actually my son, but instead a holdover from my ex-wife's previous marriage. I had loved him, though, more than I loved many things in my life. Not more than I had loved my wife, though. And now they were gone. I was the single parent, left behind -- unfortunately, it hadn't been my choice whether I got to keep the kid or not. It was doubtful this woman was put in the same place as I was. I still mourned for her situation, however.

As she started to walk away, I looked somewhere else. For some reason, I just didn't feel like observing anymore. I didn't want to be the one picking her life apart anymore, even if it had been the reason I had looked in the first place. Instead, I just wanted to enjoy the time I had in the sun.

The little boy looked at me as he walked away. I smiled and waved. It hurt so much.