The woman felt a bit sad at the fact that she never got to have engagement photos. But then again, no one could do a better job than she could. She would have never been satisfied with them, and besides there was no point in photos when her wedding had been such a simple one. Just her, her husband and her father on the beach at Gualala State Park.
And their son and dog of course, two unreliable ring bearers.
She flipped through the radio stations, pausing when she heard Guano Padano over the air and grinned to herself. The little-known Italian band was finally getting some airplay in the States. She rolled down her window and stuck her head out, smiling like a fool into the waning sun.
When she finally reached the house, the sun was close to setting. She had to hurry. She hated missing sunsets.
She parked in the gravel driveway and grabbed her camera. She looked over the edge of the dunes in front of her house and saw two children chasing each other on the sand, a dog darting between them.
Gus was sitting down on a beach blanket, having a beer and trying to throw the ball for the dog. Sammy wasn’t having any of it, preferring to run down the kids instead, barking and wagging her tail.
In front of them, out in the surf, stood her husband and his strong, solid silhouette, ankle deep in the waves, watching the sun begin its descent.
Her heart bloomed and she ran down the wooden steps to the beach, her feet running through the warm sand, one of her most favorite feelings in the world.
She waved at her father as she passed him and then prepared for the onslaught of the dog as Sammy jumped up at her. The woman raised her camera in the air, knowing the dog’s tendency to slobber all over it and scratched her quickly behind the ears.
“Hey mom!” Ben yelled, a spritely eight-year-old with dark hair and a tall build. A short attention span too. He looked to Gus, “Grandpa, throw me the ball.”
Gus threw it underhead and Ben caught it, just as Violet came screeching toward the woman’s legs.
“Mommy!” Violet cried out, wrapping her tiny arms around her cherry blossom tattoo. “You almost missed sunset.” She was four years old and into keeping track of routine. If the slightest thing was out of place, everyone would hear about it.
“But I didn’t,” the woman explained happily, crouching low. She smoothed the fine blonde hair off of Violet’s head and peered at her. “How are you, baby? Almost bedtime soon.”
“No!” Violet screeched.
The woman laughed, used to this. “Yes. Now go say hi to Grandpa. I’m going to go take a few pictures and then we’ll put you to bed and read you a story.”
“No,” the girl still said but she giggled and ran away to Gus, flopping onto the towel beside him.
The woman watched her go, then straightened up and looked to the ocean.