December 1, 2020
The water was quiet. They called it blue water, but it wasn’t always blue. It depended on the depth I suppose. I remember Pete standing chest deep in the water and drinking from a tin can he had found out there underfoot. He was well along toward the end of his life by then, and I was just beginning mine. There is no telling what his old green eyes saw when he looked at me, but I can well imagine it was tempered by a lot of irony. His life experience was different from what mine was going to be.