by Louise Yeiser
An old woman, arms swinging, and an old man, feet shuffling, are moving up the beach, with her leading the way. Once they are closer to my window, I can see that he cannot keep up, but she cannot wait. I resist the urge to run out and join them. “Go on at your own pace and let me walk with him,” I would say to her, shooing her off with my hands. While she exercises her newfound freedom and hurries down the beach, taking deep, cleansing breaths and looking out for dolphins lazing by and swiping at the schools of small fish they slice through, he and I could peck through the sand for coquinas, who present themselves in infinite patterns in infinite color combinations. I like the plaid ones best.
Louise Yeiser, whose full catalog is here, is a freelance writer and student of Creative Nonfiction, who spends as much time as possible in Naples, Florida.