earliest memory
ocean
sand
turtle
I met Meridith at a college party. I was going to art school and Meridith was going to some rich kid school. I fell in love with her instantly. Her laugh. The WAY she laughed. Felt like home. Luckily Meridith fell for me as well. I don’t know why… maybe because I was exotic, different. Maybe I felt like home to her too. The problem was that I was a poor kid on a art scholarship at a state run school and Meridith was… well her family probably owned a couple of state run schools.
Her father was nice enough but he strongly suggested a few specific business classes at a local college. Tutition paid. It couldn’t hurt. Something to fall back on. In case this art thing didn’t work out.
I wasn’t stupid. I loved Meridith. I took a job with her dads company 3 months after I graduated. We were married and bought a condo in NYC a year later.
My earliest memory
sitting on the beach
sound of the ocean
drawing in sand
colorful turtle
I was at a business conference out in San Diego when I got a cell phone call from my sister. My father had passed away. I hadn’t seen him or been back home in over 12 years. It was towards the end of the conference. So I figured I’d just fly to the funeral, back home to the island from here. Wow! dad was only 65? 70? I felt oddly calm. I called Meridith, but when I spoke I could only get out the words “My father…” before I started crying. I felt like a little kid again. Meridith and I made plans to meet in Hawaii the next day and to fly down together to Manihiki for my fathers funeral. After I got off the phone I needed to go for a walk on the beach.
I grew up on a small island
My earliest memory is of sitting on the beach.
I remember the sound of the ocean. Drawing quietly in the sand.
I remember being held. I remember a colorful turtle picture.
I stepped outside. It was night and the starry sky was crisp and startling. The breeze felt good as did the sand in my toes. I wandered aimlessly towards the sound of the surf, searching my pockets for a cigarette. Finding a smoke I bent down a bit, shielding myself from the wind trying to lite it. A heaving noise interrupted me.
I made out the outline of a large mass some several yards in front of me. I stopped as the shadow seemed to be struggling – was it a couple having a late night frolic? Was it some dying bum? I squatted down further and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
It was a giant sea turtle! It was laying eggs and burying them on the beach. It was massive larger than the span of my arms and its dark shell seemed to almost be glowing in some strange moving patterns - maybe it was the wine I’d had with dinner. The massive old turtle turned its head. It was looking right at me. Looking into me it felt. I fell to my knees unable to speak.
I grew up on a small island in the south pacific.
My earliest memory is of sitting on the beach with my family.
The sounds of the ocean.
Drawing pictures in the sand with a stick.
My father picking me up to take me home.
The bright turtle tattoo on his chest.
Looking over his shoulder at my family.
Seeing the surf wash away my drawings.
