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Windows.

5

April 7, 2014 by Dadinator

At our beach at out magic beach
We swim in the clear blue sea.
Splashing and surfing and……….

A window opens.

Salt. A fresh slap of salt on my tongue and the slow dim glare of the morning sun.
Crash….. Whush…… Crash….. Whush…. Crash…..

I feel the prickle of a tear in my eye. I look back at my drowsy son before my gaze is pulled back to the window.

I see two wet-suited people gazing out at the water. It pulses rhythmically, rising and falling. Lungs. A heart. I’m sure its part of a system that is alive, but it’s one I can’t understand.

The figures walk into the swell. Letting it wash over them, slapping against their bodies as they go further out and sink deeper into the ocean. They are shouting to one another, to be heard over the roar of the surf.

I am closer now. At the water’s edge, and I understand why. The figures are clearer, it is a man and a boy. A young teen.

They are alone.

They came early to avoid the crowds. I know this because I know them. I know these figures through the window. Dad stands tall. Taller than I remember him, “Go! Start swimming go! Catch it”. He shouts

The boy is me, frantically beating his hands and feet on the water, swimming his fastest as the wave sucks him backwards. He slides down the wave, feeling it thrust him forward.

It dumps him. Slamming his pudgy body hard into the sand underneath. He looks up, brine cascading down his head and over his face. His breath is heavy, exhilarated and lively.

He grins at dad. Dad grins back. The boy turns back to face the ocean. I grin at dad too, I grin through the window.

A tear drips down my face. I wonder if my boy has noticed the pause. He hasn’t, our day out has exhausted him. We spent the morning at the pool, splashing in clear water.

He sits on my lap content and patient.

Splashing and jumping the waves

There is a quiver in my voice. I check The Lad’s face, it is unchanged. He is with Dad. Nothing can get to him.

shrieking and laughing with glee.

I breath deeply, another window opens. I see two figures. Alike to the previous but different. Father and son. Me and my boy, as we stand together facing the ocean.

Someday.

I don’t dally on this window, the boy in my lap needs his story. He needs to sleep. He needs me here, not gazing through windows.

I smile. As I turn the page I confide in my son, “I miss my dad sometimes”.

And I read on. Leaving the windows to play out their scenes, as I set about building the next set of windows.

The words in italics are token from the book ‘Magic Beach‘ by Alison Lester. I read to my son at least twice a night before he goes to bed.

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5 thoughts on “Windows.

  1. Rory Mouttet says:

    I loved this very much Seamus. Got a bit choked up my friend. You certainly have a wonderful gift as a writer…and as a father.

  2. Kit says:

    Beautiful writing.

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