The beach is where people go to get away from the world. They lounge in the sand, their whale bodies, white, and wrinkly. And concession sellers walk by offering overpriced drinks. My van is parked 50 feet away. It’s my life; and periodically my family visits.

“What are you doing here? A vacation is one thing, but you’re wasting your time.”

“The waves are having an effect on me; they’ll bring me something good.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Probably.”

“Cousin Katie got married.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. They’re quite happy together.”

“Uh, hu.”

“What are you doing with your life? You need to find someone.”

“I’ve found someone. I found myself.” I popped the cap off an ice-cold beer and started drinking.

There was pleasure all around me, but just lying there was pleasure enough. I felt at home with the street performers, beach hustlers, and trinket sellers. It was a desperate economy for people who didn’t belong.

If a man spent enough time in one place, could he figure it out? Or was it always changing and he changed with it?

It’s true; I felt lazier, but I also felt freer. Everything there was scattered and moved by water. Eternity crashed into the endless shore and I needed to be part of it. I looked at the distant horizon where everything disappeared.

Peter was piloting his fishing trawler through the sparkling Atlantic. He told me he would get his boat floating last week and now he had. I sat up from the hot sand and walked past the volleyball girls; I needed to get to the end of the peninsula to talk to my friend. He waved at me and I dove into the deep Atlantic. He threw a rope ladder in my direction and I climbed on board.

“Would you like a beer?” He asked.

“Sure,” I said. “You goin fishin?”

“In a manner of speaking. The storm shifted a lot of sand around the reef last week and uncovered a ship; I’m lookin for treasure.”