Longing is my mother,and we are headed to the oceanto talk about my fatherwho just died.She grew upwith him, knew himfor more than half a century. 28,204 days holding handsSalt-spray stingsour faces, but we still wantthe sea. He snorkledand she surfed – they embracedthe same things differently. holding hands 28,204 days Each crest and troughof… Continue reading