Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,4

I felt a small ache of fresh sorrow mingled with nostalgia.

“Here we are,” announced Dad, “Boy, has this town grown.” We slowly cruised through a quaint seaside village with a smattering of charming little shops. The main street led to a long sandy beach with a fishing pier connecting to an old wrecked ship that sat on the ocean floor.

There was a gas station, burger joint, and a little convenience store that sold ice and flip-flops to tourists.

I vaguely remembered the area, but because of our traveling we hadn’t made the drive down in years. Dad seemed to want to avoid this place, saying he wasn’t a person who liked the seaside. As a result, I’d spent my life living on either rustic farmland or in cosmopolitan San Francisco, and hadn’t seen my aunt and cousin since they’d been up to the city several years earlier.

We turned down a narrow lane that led to a row of small houses on a bluff overlooking the beach. My aunt had lived here for as far back as I could remember, transforming a ramshackle vacation cottage into a cozy home surrounded by a lush garden. Over time, all the little bungalows that used to sit empty in winter had been snapped up and remodeled. To her surprise, Aunt Abigail found that she lived in a very desirable area. All around the neighborhood apartment buildings and condos vied for the ocean views, but her little street stood out like an oasis of charm and tranquility amongst them. I started to relax, thinking maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

We pulled up to my aunt’s house and parked behind an ancient yellow Volvo. She was waiting out front, perched on a small bench on her porch. The front of the house was festooned with wind chimes, hanging planters, and hummingbird feeders. She was waving and smiling brightly. I felt a peaceful wave of calm pass over me.

“Martin! Marina! Welcome!” she cried, and reached out to embrace us one after the other.

She was tall and tanned, with a slim build like my father, and her long blonde hair gleamed in the bright sunshine. She moved with a graceful flowing gait due to her years as a yoga instructor.

She had the wrinkles around her friendly blue eyes of someone who smiled a lot, and spent a considerable amount of time outdoors. She was beautiful.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you Aunt Abigail,” I said.

“Oh Marina, it’s my pleasure– just look at how grown up you are! It’s been much too long since you were last here! My Goodness... you’re so much like–” she paused and flashed a glance at Dad, making a sour face, “He’s the only one that calls me Abigail. Please always call me Abby.”

I looked up to see my cousin Cruz standing awkwardly in the doorway. He had grown at least a foot since I’d last seen him. His hair was styled in a shaggy fringe that swept over his eyes, which were rimmed with smudged black eyeliner. He had an assortment of silver metal piercings in his ears and eyebrows and was dressed in interesting clothes, all varying shades of black. In contrast to his mother, he had the pallor of someone who rarely saw the sun, let alone went outside.

When our eyes met I could see despite his new look he was still the same sweet, shy Cruz I remembered. I had seen much more extreme punks in San Francisco. I rushed over to give him a big hug.

“M-Marina,” he stammered, “You grew up!” We both started laughing and any tension in the atmosphere dissolved immediately.

“Martin, I hope you’ll stay for dinner,” Abby chimed in, beaming with happiness.

My father explained that he had to leave right away in order to make his flight, but promised to take us all out to the best restaurant in town when he got back. So, with a flurry of apologies and multiple trips unloading suitcases and boxes, we gathered to say our final goodbyes. I fought to hold back tears as we hugged tightly. Dad stepped over to Abby and pressed an envelope into her hands.

“That’s not neces-” Abby protested.

“I insist,” Dad said firmly. He gave me a final hug and a kiss on both cheeks. We stood and watched as he backed the Rolls out and drove away.

There was a chill in the air and I looked up to see a massive wall of fog creeping towards the sunny little house. It