After all the orange in the sky had gone and had been replaced by the day's deepest epilogue blue, with the pallid crescent moon center stage, surrounded by cool stars and dawdling clouds, Steven remarked to himself how calm the ocean waves were, more calm than usual, as if they craved to shut their eyes, their normal rush onto the shore more of a crawl upon their mattress to their blessed pillow, their crash into the sand more of a yawn. Within the streak of moonlight reflecting off the sea, the momentary bits of darkness caused by the sleepy waves Steven thought to be night fish that swam through the ocean's dreams. The vastness of the ocean. Its potential. Its power.
Steven, not for the first time, equated the serene ocean waves to that of a campfire. They both mesmerized the eyes, yet sent the mind anywhere but one's eyes. Steven thought about Connie. He thought about yesterday. He thought about Lapis. He thought about yesterday. He thought about Peridot, and Topaz. He thought about last month, a year ago, and before that. He even thought a little about his mother.
As usual, ocean waves and campfires often only make one thoughtful and give no answers. What was left for Steven was simply the dreaming sound of the sea.
"I think it's about time we head in for the night, boyo." Greg's chair creaked as he stood up.
"Ok."
They folded their chairs and walked with them up to the beach house.
"You feelin' alright, Steven?"
He shook his head. "Just tired."
Greg put a comforting hand around Steven's shoulder as they pushed through the sand.
They parted after a hug. Greg kissed his son on his forehead and told him that he loved him. Steven told his dad that he loved him, too.
...