by Christopher Jug George
I found a picture in a box of my father in the sea. He wrote ‘-ME’ and drew a line to the dot that was him out in the water. His arms were up in the air, his head tossed to the side in a menacing blue, white and blurry seascape. An unsettled sea enclosed his uncertain face. It was just him out there and water that touched the other side of the world. He set the picture on the table, smiled, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Ah, it wasn’t all that bad. It was beautiful.” He walked into the other room, and I looked across the ocean on the table.