After her husband's death at sea, Mrs. Edgeworth always wanted to see the ocean. "It will give me closure," she told her friends at the senior center.
* * *
- "Here I come, Billy," Mrs. Edgeworth says as she pulls onto the burning sands of Jumping Turtle Beach. "I know you're here…somewhere," she continues as she strips down to her bathing suit.
- Broken shells, trash, and dead jellyfish dot the beach. There is a long stretch of scrub, filled with sharp-leaved plants. In this tangle of vegetation there are signs that read: "CAUTION! Watch for snakes."
- Mrs. Edgeworth snaps pictures of ships and barges off on the horizon, gulls circling in front of the sun, and the generally endless expanse of bone-gray ocean. She tosses her camera in the rental and makes a beeline for the water.
- "You were always a good swimmer, Bill," Mrs. Edgeworth says. She mops up a tear with her index finger. She's glad the beach is empty. There is no one around to watch her add more salt to the ocean.
- Mrs. Edgeworth takes a deep breath and steps forward. The wet sand between her toes feels divine. And as she stretches her arms above the pounding surf, she feels as free as one of those gulls.
- The water rises to Mrs. Edgeworth's ankles. Her knees. Her belly.
- Oh Bill—if only you could be here beside me!
- A wave nearly knocks Mrs. Edgeworth over. She erupts into hysteric peals of laughter. Her dentures have come loose and are gone. But who cares? She dives into the next wave and sets out for a buoy. To the buoy and back!
- "Awarghaahwha!" Mrs. Edgeworth howls as the sea explodes in a great white splash.
