Friday, May 14, 2010


The boat is small enough so that when he reaches the shore he is able to pull it over the beach sand and then drag it up onto the concrete ramp. There are some blue nylon cables attached to a couple of metal pipes that are sunk into the concrete. He takes a moment or two and ties the boat up by a metal hole at the bow. Then, he walks up the ramp to the grassy lot. When last he was here, must have been more than a decade ago, his parents were deciding whether to buy the lot. No one else wanted to buy it. You couldn't build anything on it because it didn't perc. After a rainstorm, the lot would turn into a lake. He looks at his parents' house. There are no cars in the driveway. He turns his head to the road. If everything is as he has remembered it, the road is about a mile and a half long. Then, if he takes a right at the highway at the end of the road, he has another couple of miles before he reaches a convenient store where he can get something to eat. He does not seriously consider the possibility of going into his parents' house and waiting there for them. This would feel strange.

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