Beach Days by Anon., Portland, ME

As a child I remember my uncle taking me to the beach. The day always seemed perfect. A brilliant blue filled the sky and the sun was a white glowing orb, whose rays warmed my skin. The pounding of the surf provided music for the gulls that danced in the sky. I wiggled my feet in the warm sand relishing the feel of the gritty substance between my toes. Laying back on the bright fuzzy yellow blanket, I was sticky but content from the peanut butter and fluff sandwiches I had eaten. I thought to myself, This has been a good day. I had waited all summer for these days and not one had been a disappointment.

As I grew, those beach days became few and far between. Summers were full of activities: band, swimming, being with my friends. My uncle graciously stepped back and accepted that I was growing up. He realized beach days were no longer a priority, but was grateful for the wonderful days we had shared.

Now I am a senior preparing to go out into the world. It has been several years since my last beach day. My uncle came up this summer. He had been diagnosed HIV positive two years ago and was only able to tell us about his diagnosis this summer.

I now long for those beach days when I was a child and everything was so simple. It was all black and white without a hint of gray. My uncle can no longer go to the beach but assures me he has enough happy memories of blue skies, the pounding surf, and me to last him a thousand lifetimes.