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The Perfect Day
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that hot, summer day. Three car- loads of us clamored out of our vehicles and began to unload all our gear. It would be the largest Smith family gathering any of us had seen since Great Uncle Ray’s funeral several years back. Grandpa decided that his final outing would be with all his children and grandchildren at his favorite getaway, Seacliff Beach.
Overhead the gulls soared dangerously close and someone made a comment. “Better get out your hat, Dad. That bald head of yours has just become the perfect target.”
“Better move that big rear end of yours, smart mouth! It’s about to become the perfect target for my foot!”
My spirit told me that it was going to be a perfect day. The kind of day that makes an artist take out his chalk and canvas, allowing his mind and creativity to take over, crafting the perfect masterpiece.
From my towel I sat staring at the crashing waves, absorbed in my thoughts. I tried to use all of my senses as I sat transfixed on the scene before me. Even this far back away from the shore I felt the ocean spray gently caress my face. I tasted the saltiness in the air as the gentle breeze softly spread its fingerlike gusts across my back and shoulders like a finely trained masseuse.
I embraced sight and sound as I took in the vastness displayed before me like a giant quilt. Paradise was within my reach. All I had to do was take a few long steps.
What came next was the cherry atop our ice cream Sunday of a day. Somewhere, one my relatives has great pictures of this event. “Look! Dolphins!” In an instant everyone was on his feet, mesmerized by the sudden surprise. A single dorsal fin emerged from the waves and then plunged back under. Seconds later, another one, and then yet another. In five minutes we were watching a school of dolphins frolic in the Pacific, oblivious to the captive audience they held. The only person not standing was Grandpa, who seemed content to scope out the display on land under the safety of his umbrella. I looked at his face and noticed that he truly looked happy. I was glad I had contributed to the joy that seemed to embrace him right up to his final days on this earth. I got to see my grandfather smile and laugh like I hadn’t seen for months, before the cancer ate away at his insides.
My mother has gotten in the habit of collecting dolphins in remembrance of that special day by the sea. I have my memories. These are the things I hold onto, my treasures. When I think about my grandfather, I choose not to remember the frail, skinny lifeless body he wore in those final hours. I remember the laughter in his eyes and the amusement he cradled like a child. I choose to recall that our final outing together with Grandpa was indeed a perfect day.
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