Neither of us could remember 

The last time we’d been to the beach together 

So on a Sunday afternoon we headed out in the blazingly humid weather 

Coolers and towels in hand 

I was telling him I was so glad he was with me 

As we walked up that little brick path just before the sand 

The breeze blew gently 

When there was a rumble of thunder 

I saw those tall cumulonimbus clouds in the distance 

Bluish gray like the hidden parts of my existence 

He said we ought to turn around 

I sighed and frowned 

His phone rang anyway 

We turned our backs on the bay 

We drove to the coffee shop 

Along the outskirts of where we spent our youth 

We passed that old church where we met 

I thought of all the old pictures taken there 

I felt a bit like a sleuth 

No one thinks about it anymore, I bet 

My heart ached, his seethed 

I wished we could have gone to the beach 

We ordered our lattes and sat at the tall table 

On a Sunday afternoon it was crowded 

My husband was glued to his phone though sitting across from me 

I felt alone, like a kid in a cradle. Shrouded.

How long? 

It reminded me of a TV show from the past: Boy Meets World or Friends – where there’s old episodes then reunions 

But when will my reunion come?

No matter how hard I try 

Among all the millennials I can’t tap into the Wi-Fi

I watched a girl across from me 

She actually wasn’t on her phone

She’s was in another zone – pen to paper 

Pouring out words in black ink 

Somehow she reminded me of the Terminator

It was a hundred degrees out but she was wearing a black jacket

What did she think?

The words kept flowing

My husband kept going – on the phone with a colleague 

I know it’s selfish but I wondered if anyone noticed me 

There was a yearning 

Finally two people walked up 

I moved my stuff 

Told ‘em they could sit 

They all wore beach attire 

The one woman in orange looked so tired 

The brunette looked like my old best friend – she asked me how to order coffee

She smiled, said she didn’t have her phone

I told her to just go up to the “barista zone”

She looked athletic in a tank top and board shorts, sneakers

She told me she just ran a 10k and I didn’t believe her

Her friend said she liked my Colorado shirt 

Ah, little words from strangers that didn’t hurt 

They told me they were supposed to go to the beach 

But that there was thunder 

The woman in orange pulled her baby from the stroller 

She said, “Sometimes I wonder…if I’ll ever go to the beach again…seems like something always creeps in”

My husband got off the phone and we all started talking 

We played cards 

I felt a little warmth in my heart 

An announcement was made from the barista zone 

A middle aged guy with a microphone 

He said the coffee shop needed to be evacuated 

There was a fire a few buildings down 

We looked at each other, waited 

We watched the rain outside pound 

There was the smell of smoke 

The crowd went outside 

That woman’s baby cried 

I could see the orange flames, the gray smoke 

Tall, like those cumulonimbous clouds 

As we all dissipated 

The fire trucks arrived 

I saw that girl with the leather jacket come outside 

Someone said the fire started at that old church down the block 

She didn’t take her jacket off 

She hopped on her ride – a Harley Fat Boy 

The rain let up 

Like my lonely soul 

As she drove away, I noticed a gasoline can strapped to the back 

That little coffee shop began to go up in flames 

My husband said, “Where’s my phone?”

Then the smell of burning plastic 

Those two girls from the shop asked our names 

The sun came out 

Standing there on the outskirts of a blaze was somehow fantastic 

We were all sweating 

My husband grabbed my hand, said he had a plan

We turned to the beach, started walking

Those two girls from the shop followed like they were stalking 

A half mile walk to the shore 

The firefighters had said anyway, no one could stick around anymore

As the sky got lighter I saw a rainbow 

My husband actually saw it first 

He said, “I’m sorry if I ever made you hurt”

We hugged and kissed 

He said, “I miss when it was like this”

We were just a half mile away from where we’d met 19 years ago 

Those two girls were on the beach too – one yelled, “Give it a throw!” – as she tossed me a frisbee

What do you know?

Two men – their husbands – showed

Friends again

I ventured down to the water’s edge

I looked just beyond the jetty’s ledge

There was that woman – she’d removed her leather jacket

Surely she knew what had happened

I told her to come hang out

Her face lifted like a cloud

We recognized one another

We’d been at that church together a million years ago

As she stood, my spirit glowed

Moving into the present, we finally could

Filled with connection, caffeine, sun

Surely there is nothing like fulfilled hope