From our last vacation. Half Moon Bay in California.
Marilyn was as happy as a little girl. She wrote that in the sand with her finger and was literally chortling with glee.
My homage to my beloved wife, written on the same beach.
Taken by my friend DJ as I scattered some of Marilyn’s ashes.
Just as I threw them into the surf a seagull swooped by, inches away.
I watched it sweep, crying into the sky.
Fly high little bird.