Whoosh

Water lapping on the shore

Wind blowing my hair

A small plane buzzes through the billowing clouds

A jet ski bumps behind me

I lay on the hard, warm, wooden dock

My eyes are closed, and I face the sky

But I can see the sun through my eyelids

The salty air blows over me, just as I feel my skin begin to sear

What shall I do next, 

Dive off the dock?

Drop some cookies into the water to see what will eat them?

Take a walk to the Johnson's dock

Or just lay here some more and enjoy the sun on my skin.

I can hear a distant voice

"Mom, what'll we have for dinner?"

"Well, we've got that lettuce and those tomatoes. Let's make a salad."

"I'll grill the steaks."

"And bake some potatoes too."

"I'll run to the PX for some more bread and butter."

The ground is cleared.

But the memories swirl around me.

Peace is still here.

In my mind.