Doris Lynch

Death of the Blond Beach Boy

The day after your brother dies, we head to Cape May where your Great Aunt Sadie hosted family beach vacations.  Almost winter, brisk and cold with twenty-five mile per hour winds, we barely can hear each other speak so we embrace silence. Roddy becomes a third presence beside us, his surprise death, his sudden disappearance from the world. I count the waves and every few minutes hear his hearty laugh in the multiple crashes of each eleventh wave.

At the state park, three birders hoist huge cameras into the sky. A line of swans circles above the largest pond.  A gander, already there, swims into the reeds and almost stands, pounding the water with his wings while honking loudly. Each long, curved feather arches toward the next. Do you think the bird is a double for your brother calling one last time?

The swans are magnificent, long curled necks, huge arched wings, graceful bodies that land in a grand phalanx on the water. Immediately, many of them curl their long necks and dive for fish. We walk along the marsh’s sand paths and think of your brother and the Atlantic he so loved.

As the sun lowers, we follow an uphill path to the beach. There, a short distance to our right, a large fort stands, deep ebony in the fading November dusk. You move quickly toward it. I find you on the far side, a smile on your face, remembering.

historical marker
its brass description
lost to twilight

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About the Author

Doris Lynch has been writing haibun for over 10 years. Her work has appeared in Haibun Today, cho, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, and FemkuMag, among others. She also writes in longer forms.