Walking
on
the
beach
is
something
I
love
to
do
and
one
of
the
few
“suggestions”
given
to
me
by
my
doctor
that
I
actually
enjoy
following.
Dakota
needs
her
exercise
as
well
and
there
are
few
things
in
this
world
a
Labrador
loves
more
than
playing
in
the
surf;
so
long
ago
we
made
a
mutual
pack
to
share
this
healthy
morning
ritual.
One
such
morning
while
participating
in
our
daily
routine,
my
eyes
caught
the
shape
of a
familiar
figure.
We
had
seen
this
quiet
man
on
the
beach
many
times
before,
always
walking
alone,
coat
collar
pulled
up
and
hands
in
his
pockets
fending
off
the
damp
morning
air.
At
times
our
paths
would
cross
and
we
would
exchange
silent
nods
and
perhaps
even
a
cursory
smile,
but
hardly
a
word
was
ever
spoken.
The
Coronado
Islands
were
lost
in a
dense
marine
layer
offshore
that
day
as I
recall.
I
could
see
the
man
sitting
on
the
sand,
just
beyond
the
reach
of
the
surging
tide
and
staring
out
into
the
mist
as
if
he
were
looking
for
something
or
someone.
It
wasn’t
until
we
were
only
steps
away
that
he
became
aware
of
our
presence
and
instinctively
jumped
up
and
apologized.
I
assured
him
that
there
was
plenty
of
room
for
us
to
walk
around
him
on
the
beach
and
that
he
was
no
bother.
Reaching
out
his
hand
toward
Dakota,
he
asked
if
she
was
friendly
and
I
couldn’t
help
but
notice
the
faded
Navy
insignia
on
his
tattered
ball
cap.
Asking
if
he
had
ever
served,
he
shared
with
me
that
he
had
retired
from
the
Navy
a
few
years
ago,
with
San
Diego
his
last
station
of
duty.
The
next
several
minutes
were
spent
sharing
a
funny
story
or
two
about
time
aboard
ship
and
memories
that
most
who
have
served
would
probably
recognize
and
understand.
As
suddenly
as
the
conversation
had
begun,
an
awkward
silence
soon
followed
and
with
another
nod
and
polite
smile
we
each
continued
on
our
way
that
day.
Calling
Dakota
to
catch
up
as I
headed
back
to
the
house
it
occurred
to
me
that
I
hadn’t
even
asked
his
name.
The
thought
of
going
back
to
properly
introduce
myself
crossed
my
mind
but
I
decided
to
just
let
it
go.
Surely
we
would
see
each
other
again
on
another
morning
and
right
then
I
just
wanted
to
get
home
to a
hot
shower
and
breakfast.
Looking
back
to
the
beach
as I
walked
up
the
stairs
to
the
house
I
could
see
that
he
had
taken
his
place
back
on
the
sand,
lost
in
his
thoughts
while
staring
out
to
sea.
I
wondered
for
a
moment
who
this
man
really
was.
He
was
always
alone.
After
talking
with
him
today
he
now
seemed
very
sad
as
well.
Making
our
way
down
the
beach,
it
was
Dakota
who
would
first
see
him
that
next
day
and
she
would
be
rewarded
with
a
treat
the
man
took
from
his
coat
pocket
- He
had
quickly
figured
out
the
shortcut
to
her
heart
and
it
was
obvious
that
he
genuinely
liked
dogs.
Watching
him
play
with
Dakota
I
asked
him
if
he
had
any
pets
at
home.
He
explained
that
he
raised
and
trained
guide
dogs
for
the
visually
impaired
and
was
waiting
for
his
next
pup
to
be
assigned
to
him.
I
was
struck
by
the
generosity
of
his
act,
knowing
that
I
would
have
a
difficult
time
giving
up a
dog
that
I
had
raised
from
a
pup
and
after
becoming
part
of
our
home,
family
and
lives.
Without
knowing
anything
more
about
this
man
I
was
already
convinced
that
he
had
a
kind
and
giving
nature.
We
walked
together
for
awhile
on
the
beach
that
morning
and
I
learned
that
he
was
divorced,
lived
alone
here
in
Baja
and
had
recently
lost
his
only
sibling,
a
sister
a
few
months
back.
He
wanted
to
go
to
the
funeral
in
Michigan
he
said,
but…
The
sentence
would
float
off
into
the
air,
not
to
be
finished.
I
watched
as
he
lost
himself
in
his
thoughts
and
his
eyes
were
pulled
once
again
out
to
sea.
The
pain
this
man
tried
so
hard
to
hide
would
be
deceived
by
everything
that
was
left
unspoken.
Catching
himself
and
looking
back
at
me
moments
later,
he
realized
that
he
had
drifted
off
from
the
conversation
and
now
forced
a
half-hearted
smile.
I
said
it
was
okay
and
we
walked
along
for
the
next
several
minutes
without
sharing
another
word.
In
the
days
that
followed
we
would
share
more
time
together
walking,
comparing
notes
on
life
in
Mexico,
growing
up
as
young
kids,
minor
health
issues
that
come
with
age
and
having
to
deal
with
the
VA
in
San
Diego.
Listening
to
him
paint
the
story
of
his
life
I
could
see
a
portion
of
the
canvas
left
blank
and
at
some
point
I
asked
about
him
about
his
parents.
He
grew
silent
for
a
moment
and
then
quietly
told
me
that
they
had
both
passed
long
ago.
Not
offering
more
I
decided
to
let
it
go;
it
really
was
none
of
my
business
anyway.
The
subject
changed
to
the
weather,
politics
and
countless
topics
more
until
it
was
time
to
get
Dakota
home
and
my
work
day
started.
Days,
weeks
and
months
would
pass
by
as
we
continued
to
share
our
morning
walks
together.
I
developed
great
respect
and
admiration
for
my
friend
and
Dakota
knew
that
a
treat
would
always
be
found
in
his
left
coat
pocket,
something
that
he
never
forgot.
With
the
passing
of
time
the
bond
of
friendship
grew
stronger,
yet
I
could
sense
that
there
was
a
secret
that
he
carried
deep
down
inside.
With
each
conversation
he
would
open
the
door
slightly
further
and
along
with
the
pain,
I
would
also
discover
my
new
friend
to
be a
very
gentle,
kind
and
spiritual
soul
with
a
generous
nature.
What
struck
me
was
that
he
lived
alone
and
never
mentioned
any
other
family
or
friends,
other
than
the
single
mention
of
his
sister
who
had
recently
passed
and
his
parents
many
years
before.
He
seemed
to
avoid
the
subject
and
I
didn’t
want
to
pressure
him
into
divulging
something
that
he
was
uncomfortable
talking
about.
A
great
secret
was
rooted
in
the
sadness
I
had
sensed
in
him
that
very
first
day
we
met
and
talked.
It
always
showed
in
his
eyes
and
I
wished
for
the
opportunity
to
be
able
to
help
him.
I
felt
powerless
in
many
ways
and
unsure
what
I
could
offer
him.
It
was
a
Friday
morning,
much
like
any
other
day
but
the
simple
fact
that
my
friend
was
not
there
waiting
for
us
on
the
beach
below
that
made
that
day
very
different.
I
had
become
accustomed
to
the
companionship
while
walking
each
day;
Dakota
running,
playing
and
even
chasing
an
occasional
seagull
or
two
as
we
talked.
I
wondered
if
he
was
sick,
had
gone
to
San
Diego
for
an
appointment
or
perhaps
had
just
chosen
to
sleep
in.
The
longer
I
walked
with
Dakota
down
the
beach,
my
thoughts
slowly
turned
from
curiosity
into
genuine
concern.
I
remembered
that
in
the
days
prior
he
had
not
looked
well
and
even
walked
slower.
When
I
asked
he
told
me
that
he
wasn’t
sleeping
well
and
fighting
low
blood
sugar.
I
had
never
actually
been
to
my
friends’
house
but
I
knew
where
he
lived
as
he
had
once
pointed
out
his
back
deck
from
where
we
walked
down
below.
Pushing
the
gate
open
I
could
see
his
pickup
truck
parked
next
to
the
house
and
knocked
softly
on
the
front
door
a
few
times.
I
was
considering
what
to
do
next
when
I
heard
the
lock
slide
back.
The
door
slowly
opened
and
the
pale
and
unshaven
face
of
my
friend
appeared,
wearing
a
bathrobe
and
now
inviting
me
to
come
in.
He
seemed
dazed
and
mentioned
again
that
he
was
fighting
with
low
blood
sugar.
He
couldn’t
remember
when
he
last
had
something
to
eat
so I
sat
him
down
and
headed
to
the
kitchen
to
see
what
I
could
put
together.
I
knew
that
he
needed
sugar
and
carbohydrates
or
possibly
face
the
effects
of
hypoglycemia.
Opening
the
refrigerator
I
saw
only
some
stale
fast
food
leftovers
and
empty
shelves.
Remembering
the
tree
outside
in
the
front
garden,
I
brought
in a
dozen
of
the
most
mature
oranges
that
I
could
quickly
reach
and
was
able
to
squeeze
out
a
glass
of
juice.
Mixing
in
some
sugar
I
gave
it
to
my
friend
with
some
crackers
I
found
in a
cupboard
above
the
stove.
He
sipped
the
juice
and
began
to
eat
the
crackers
while
I
slowly
looked
around
his
place
for
the
first
time.
The
dirty
dishes
in
the
sink,
living
room
clutter
and
clothes
on
the
floor
told
me
that
it
had
been
a
long
time
since
a
woman
had
been
in
this
house.
Not
meaning
to
sound
sexist
but
as
one
who
was
once
a
confirmed
bachelor,
I
know
the
tell-tale
signs
all
too
well.
As I
looked
around
some
more
it
occurred
to
me
that
it
had
probably
been
a
long
time
since
ANYBODY
had
come
through
that
front
door
to
visit.
It
was
then
that
my
eyes
were
drawn
to
an
arrangement
of
several
picture
frames
on a
wall
over
the
couch.
Old
and
discolored
photographs
were
chronologically
arranged
of
babies,
toddlers
and
young
children
that
appeared
to
be
in
first
or
second
grade
and
others
from
family
vacations,
holidays
and
birthday
parties.
Looking
closer
I
could
see
the
resemblance
of a
younger
man
in
the
photographs
to
my
friend.
The
man
in
the
photographs
was
with
an
attractive
woman
and
together
with
the
children
they
appeared
to
form
a
family.
On a
shelf
above
his
desk
I
found
more
photographs
that
were
probably
taken
a
few
years
later,
judging
by
the
size
and
ages
of
the
children.
I
also
noticed
that
he
was
absent
from
any
of
those
later
photos
and
thought
that
fact
was
probably
significant
to
my
friends
story.
“That
was
thirty
years
ago”,
my
friend
said
to
me
and
I
turned
to
see
him
now
standing
behind
me,
recovering
somewhat
from
the
state
in
which
I
found
him
before
and
looking
embarrassed
that
I
had
uncovered
this
evidence
of
his
prior,
unspoken
life.
I
asked
him
if
he
wanted
to
talk
about
it.
He
made
his
way
back
to
the
chair
where
he
sat
down
to
gather
himself
for
a
moment.
He
then
began
to
tell
me a
story
of
two
kids
who
met
and
fell
in
love
in a
Detroit
high
school
many
years
ago.
In
the
summer
after
graduation
and
before
he
entered
college
in
the
fall,
they
would
elope.
His
young
bride
would
take
a
full-time
job
during
the
day
and
he
worked
at
night
as a
janitor
and
security
guard
to
help
make
ends
meet.
Somehow
they
managed
to
raise
two
kids
during
those
first
three
years
of
marriage.
After
finishing
college
he
landed
a
good
job
with
one
of
the
big
three
auto
manufacturers
and
she
quit
work
to
stay
home
with
the
kids.
She
was
then
pregnant
with
their
third
child.
Life
continued
on
like
that
for
a
couple
more
years.
She
was
a
stay
at
home
mom,
he
had
gotten
a
promotion,
the
kids
were
now
all
out
of
diapers
and
together
they
paid
their
bills,
a
mortgage
and
even
began
to
put
away
a
little
money
for
a
rainy
day.
Coming
home
one
day
from
the
factory
he
would
find
out
that
his
wife
was
pregnant
with
their
fourth
child.
She
told
him
the
very
moment
he
walked
through
the
door,
without
giving
him
a
chance
to
take
off
his
coat,
his
tie
or
first
tell
her
that
he
and
his
entire
crew
had
just
been
laid
off
that
afternoon.
The
economy
was
bad
and
local
job
prospects
even
worse.
Unemployment
would
not
cover
their
bills
and
eventually
they
would
lose
their
home.
Moving
the
family
into
the
basement
of
his
in-laws
was
probably
only
one
of
many
excuses
he
found
to
spend
more
time
at
the
bar
and
the
beginning
of a
life
long
battle
against
an
addiction
to
alcohol.
An
affair
and
being
arrested
for
public
intoxication
didn’t
help
matters
any
and
soon
he
was
living
with
his
sister.
His
wife
had
filed
for
divorce
and
life
was
quickly
spiraling
out
of
control.
Sitting
on
his
sisters
back
steps
and
considering
his
options,
he
made
a
decision
to
take
the
road
that
made
the
most
sense
to
him
at
the
time.
He
ran.
That
first
leg
of
the
road
would
make
a
temporary
stop
in
Chicago,
where
he
worked
as a
mechanic
for
a
couple
of
months
while
figuring
out
what
he
would
do.
Finally
reaching
a
cross
road,
he
called
his
sister
back
home
and
asked
her
to
tell
his
kids
that
he
loved
them.
She
pleaded
for
him
to
come
back
and
try
to
work
things
out.
He
wanted
to
but
he
didn’t.
Partly
due
to
shame
and
largely
due
to
fear,
he
took
another
option.
He
enlisted.
More
than
ten
years
would
pass
before
he
received
news
from
any
of
his
family.
His
sister
was
able
to
reach
him
through
the
Navy
to
tell
him
that
mom
had
just
passed
away.
From
a
phone
booth
in
Pensacola,
Florida
he
would
learn
that
his
dad
had
passed
two
years
before
and
his
mom
had
asked
for
him
up
until
the
very
last
hour.
He
was
too
ashamed
to
even
ask
about
his
kids.
His
sister
would
ask
anyway
and
then
share
that
she
had
been
in
contact
with
them
over
the
years.
She
added
that
it
had
been
awhile
since
she
last
heard
from
them.
His
ex-wife
had
remarried
and
moved
to
Texas,
leaving
no
phone
number
or
address.
He
just
sat
down
in
that
phone
booth
and
cried.
He
told
me
that
he
couldn’t
even
remember
for
how
long
but
it
must
have
been
awhile
because
the
MP’s
were
called
to
come
get
him.
His
CO
offered
to
give
him
leave
to
go
home
but
he
told
them
that
he
had
nothing
and
nobody
to
go
back
to,
so
he
just
moved
on.
At
that
moment
in
the
story
I
could
feel
the
pain
in
my
friends
heart
and
together
we
both
cried
as
he
continued
on.
He
shared
how
he
faced
and
accepted
his
drinking
problem
and
his
daily
walk
since
to
stay
sober.
He
had
remained
alone
during
all
his
years
with
the
Navy
and
after
retiring
he
moved
around
from
job
to
job
in
California
for
a
few
years.
Seeing
no
point
to
his
life
there
he
decided
to
move
down
to
Baja,
a
place
that
he
knew
well
and
where
he
had
learned
to
get
away
at
times
in
years
past.
Listening
to
my
friend
and
hearing
the
emotion
in
his
words,
I
could
see
something
that
was
very
clear.
He
was
still
afraid
and
he
was
still
running.
It
grew
quiet
and
uneasy
in
his
living
room
for
several
minutes
as
he
just
stared
at
the
photographs
on
the
wall.
I
could
see
him
going
back
through
the
memories
in
his
mind
and
the
pain
that
quickly
followed.
Nostalgia,
low
blood
sugar
and
mostly
the
weight
of
30
years
of
guilt
and
shame
this
man
had
carried
in
this
unfinished
story
would
overcome
him
at
that
moment.
I
had
to
put
my
arms
around
him
to
keep
him
from
collapsing
right
there
on
the
floor.
I
recognized
a
man
truly
facing
and
accepting
the
consequences
of
his
actions.
A
heavy
price
he
would
pay
for
trying
to
run
from
that
which
he
could
never
escape.
I
know
the
pain
of
losing
a
child
and
could
connect
on
some
level
with
what
he
was
experiencing.
Sobbing
almost
uncontrollably
on
my
shoulder
I
knew
that
his
health
was
the
immediate
problem
that
needed
to
be
attended
to
and
I
thought
of
who
I
could
call
to
lend
a
hand
to
my
friend
at
that
moment.
Conferring
quickly
with
the
Señoras
of
the
neighborhood,
I
was
given
the
name
of
Gabriela,
or
“Gaby”,
as
they
liked
to
call
her.
She
lived
alone
nearby
in a
home
that
she
had
shared
with
her
father
who
had
passed
away
a
year
before.
She
had
worked
as a
nurse
and
attended
to
her
father
in
his
last
months
of
life.
Her
only
son
was
married
and
living
in
Veracruz
and
she
was
looking
for
something
to
keep
herself
busy.
I
brought
Gaby
to
the
home
of
my
friend
and
showed
him
how
she
could
help
him
get
back
on
his
feet.
It
wouldn’t
hurt
if
he
let
her
get
his
house
in
order
as
well,
I
added
before
walking
out
the
door.
The
first
few
days
were
probably
a
bit
difficult
as
Gaby
did
not
speak
a
word
of
English
and
my
friend
knew
only
a
minimum
amount
of
Spanish.
I
gave
them
a
Spanish-English
dictionary
and
told
them
to
“be
creative”
in
communicating.
Although
my
friend
initially
resisted
the
idea
of
accepting
any
help,
Gaby
quickly
overcame
his
objections
by
just
ignoring
his
protests
and
went
to
work
with
a
smile
and
started
by
boiling
water
for
a
cup
of
tea.
I
sensed
that
deep
down
inside
he
felt
that
he
didn’t
deserve
anyone’s
help.
He
had
done
a
terrible
thing
abandoning
his
kids
years
before.
No
question
about
that.
Life
presents
many
challenges
and
obstacles.
At
times
it
can
seem
overwhelming,
even
to
the
strongest
among
us.
That
can
lead
to
fear
and
sometimes
we
might
even
feel
compelled
to
run.
Some
may
actually
run
away
in
the
physical
sense
while
others
may
escape
to
the
security
found
in a
needle,
bottle
or
prescription
drug.
There
are
still
others
who
may
just
withdraw
to
within
the
depths
of
their
own
pain
and
suffering
in
their
soul.
Not
one
of
these
escape
routes
will
lead
to
the
answer
to
your
problems
and
my
friend
had
managed
to
travel
down
all
three
roads.
Guilt
can
be a
very
heavy
burden
to
carry,
especially
as
the
years
go
on
and
the
weight
of
our
actions
become
clearer.
I
wouldn’t
pretend
to
make
any
excuses
for
what
my
friend
did.
It
was
wrong.
He
was
wrong
and
he
knew
that.
Life
threw
him
a
couple
of
hard
curves
and
he
took
what
appeared
to
be
the
easy
road
at
the
time.
For
that
journey
he
has
paid
a
very
heavy
price
and
it
was
close
to
finishing
him.
Part
of
that
price
was
not
being
able
to
forgive
himself
and
extracted
a
heavier
toll
on
him
than
his
bodies
inability
to
control
his
glucose
levels.
I
think
about
the
great
story
of
Saul
on
the
road
to
Damascus
and
how
God
temporarily
blinded
him,
changing
his
life
and
the
story
of
the
Christian
faith
forever
that
day,
two
thousand
years
ago.
God
didn’t
choose
a
Holy
Man
or
one
who
had
lived
a
devote
life
dedicated
to
good
deeds
and
faithful
obedience.
He
chose
to
convert
a
man
who
had
sent
Christians
to
their
death
in
the
coliseum
in
Rome
and
now
would
be
reborn
as
Paul,
one
of
the
greatest
figures
of
the
New
Testament.
They
say
that
just
as
evil
lives
in
the
heart
of
the
very
best
of
us,
a
lot
of
good
also
exists
in
those
guilty
of
even
the
most
heinous
acts.
If
we
be
honest
with
ourselves,
most
of
us
would
accept
that
we
probably
fall
somewhere
in
between
on
the
road
of
life
between
the
best
and
the
worst.
Forgiveness
and
healing
can
happen
under
some
of
the
most
difficult
circumstances
and
I
figure
that
if I
ever
hope
to
be
forgiven,
I
have
to
be
capable
of
forgiving
others
first.
God
truly
works
in
mysterious
ways
and
it
would
not
be
this
Gringo
who
would
help
my
friend
take
that
next
important
step
in
his
journey.
It
would
come
at
the
hand
and
touch
of a
beautiful
woman
who
spoke
no
English
but
while
caring
for
him
would
teach
him
that
his
life
still
had
value
and
meaning.
She
showed
him
that
he
needed
to
face
and
accept
what
he
had
done
and
take
steps
to
make
amends
wherever
and
however
possible.
They
say
that
time
heals
all
wounds.
I
guess
some
take
longer
than
others
and
the
ability
to
face
our
mistakes
as
well
as
ask
for,
give
and
accept
forgiveness
is
what
makes
that
possible.
It
took
my
friend
thirty
years.
I
wonder
how
many
others
struggle
with
similar
demons
of
guilt,
shame,
hurt
and
anger?
They
serve
no
good
purpose
other
than
to
steal
years
away
and
separate
us
from
those
we
care
for
and
love
as
we
find
our
own
way
of
running,
escaping
and
hiding.
To
face
up
to
and
accept
our
errors
is
to
cut
the
chains
that
bind
us
to
those
dead
end
roads.
To
forgive
is
to
heal,
whether
you
have
been
hurt
or
the
one
who
first
caused
the
harm.
The
end
result
makes
little
difference
as
all
involved
are
victims
of
the
damage
such
pain
will
cause.
I
received
an
email
from
my
friend
not
long
ago
with
a
photo
taken
at
his
new
place
in
Veracruz.
He
was
sitting
on
the
front
porch
with
Gaby
and
the
new
Labrador
pup
that
they
share
their
home
with
now
and
are
training
to
help
someone
else
one
day.
He
has
made
contact
with
his
grown
children
now
living
in
California
and
Texas.
His
oldest
daughter
was
recently
down
to
meet
him
and
he
met
his
grandson.
A
lot
of
work
remains
to
be
done,
yet
on
some
level
healing
has
begun.
The
past
cannot
be
changed
but
what
is
important
now
is
that
my
friend
is
heading
down
a
new
road.
No
more
running
or
escaping.
Time
will
tell
what
happens
with
the
rest
of
that
story.
In
the
end
we
make
our
choices
in
life.
Some
of
those
choices
will
be
right
and
others
will
surely
be
wrong.
Some
may
be
done
in
private
and
be
known
only
between
us
and
our
Maker
while
others
may
be
sins
that
we
pay
for
publicly
during
a
lifetime.
We
are
all
human
and
I am
still
learning
to
be
careful
before
being
too
quick
to
judge.
I am
also
coming
to
understand
the
wisdom
in
seeing
someone
for
who
they
are
today.
If I
am
to
judge,
I
want
to
judge
someone
for
their
best
qualities.
To
see
them
for
what
is
good
in
their
heart,
not
based
on
something
that
happened
in
their
weakest
moments.
I
would
hope
that
others
would
extend
to
me
that
same
benefit
of
the
doubt
when
looking
at
the
complete
story
that
is
my
life,
some
chapters
of
which
I am
not
proud.
My
friend
spent
a
lifetime
hurting,
in
pain
and
drowning
in
shame.
He
found
healing
and
learned
to
begin
again
here
on a
Baja
California
beach.
I
suppose
that
people
come
for
different
reasons
but
healing
is
one
that
I
can
truly
understand.
After
losing
Olivia,
I
spent
many
days
staring
out
from
that
very
same
beach
four
years
ago.
If
we
are
honest
with
ourselves,
we
can
all
find
something
to
seek
healing
for.
Perhaps
we
need
to
be
the
first
one
to
ask
for
or
reach
out
and
offer
forgiveness.
Not
sure
where
or
how
to
begin?
Stick
a
treat
in
your
pocket
and
take
my
hand.
Let’s
go
for
a
walk
on
the
beach
…
BajaGringois Ronald Hoff,
eMarketing and SEO Consultant.
He can be reached at:
