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The Coming Tide by Eddie Flotte
The Coming Tide by Eddie Flotte

The Coming Tide

George taught me well. Containers of soil now sprout potatoes and corn, tomatoes and beans. Each high tide brought a meal to be netted, hooked or trapped. This meadow was once strewn with every bent and cracked bit of hardware, wood or glass that one could use in a lifetime, ...put there during the 3 day storm of 62. It has now been picked clean, washed away or sunken into the mud. George could have lived forever, he chose not to. Thelma saw her magic fade. She shared it freely and was nearly relieved to see it go. Jimmy Hern could be anywhere doing anything, he is that rich in personality. Who knows what became of Kirlin. I still expect him to show up again some day smiling his enormous smile. He baptized me into the realm of triple-hard building with salvaged materials, rudimentary tools and elbow grease. I have finished all of the work we started under the house and more. The top side is a solid and a stately thing of beauty. I have now begun the dock. In my dreams, I hear the boat coming. I hear the voices through the fog. One day they will come into view and I'll meet them, at the end of the dock built just for their arrival. Until then I live out my days mostly alone, The gulls are my company. Beeler soars about, up and down the Atlantic waterways. He discovered and mastered the secrets of immortality and enjoys them to the fullest. When he returns here to Grassy, I find him perched at my window, looking in watching me work. Have you ever seen an egret smile?
— Eddie Flotte


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