My father used to tell me to take
a long walk on a short pier.
I thought he was trying to get rid of me.
I would walk away.
We weren’t close.
We never talked.
But maybe he was trying to share something with me.
His love of the sea.
He had been a Marine in World War II.
He could have been sharing with me in his awkward way.
His love of boats and the deep, blue sea.
Now when I look out at the ocean,
I think of him.