When I was in my late twenties, my friends and I took a vacation to Miami, Florida.  We took a cruise to nowhere, explored the shops at the Bayside Marketplace and Coconut Grove, visited a historical home called Villa Viscaya and of course spent time on the beach. One afternoon I spotted a pink hotdog stand on the sand.  Down near the water, a man was flying a bright pink kite.  The color combination provided a tempting photo opportunity.  Later, while looking through my  vacation album, I wrote the descriptive piece below.

Miami Beach, March 1991 (photo by L. LeVasseur)

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Juliette watches him from the boardwalk.  His fluorescent pink kite is a solitary point of color in the overcast sky.  The kite hovers on the horizon and then plummets toward the rolling waves.  She feels her pulse quicken and her freckled face flush as the kite dives toward the blue-green surf.  But with a determined flick of his wrist he stops its abrupt descent and sends it soaring in the strengthening breeze.

She breathes out a sigh of relief and sets the picnic basket she has brought with her on one of the tables surrounding the cheerful pink hotdog stand, which has closed for the day.  Perhaps they will come back tomorrow at noon and have hot dogs and curly fries for lunch like teen-agers.  Now, they will content themselves with her home-made macaroni salad, deviled eggs and apple pie.

Pulling her denim jacket closer around her slight frame, she waves as Leo catches sight of her.  He reels in the kite, walking slowly up the beach to where she waits. He looks relaxed and comfortable in his shorts and snug windbreaker.  She notes that he must have gone to the barber and admires his closely cropped graying hair.

He greets her with a kiss and says, “Hello there.  How was your last day of school?”

She smiles a little sadly.  “It was fine.  The kids gave me farewell gifts and they all said they would miss me next year.  The teachers surprised me with a cake in the faculty room at lunch.”

“I’m glad they appreciate you,” he says, opening the picnic basket and helping her set out their supper.  “You’ve certainly devoted many years to the school.”

She nods and holds out her hand for his plate.  She puts a mound of macaroni salad on the plate and asks, “How was your first day of retirement?  What did you do all day?”

Helping himself to two deviled eggs, he says, “I had a great day.  I read the paper and worked in the garden this morning.  After lunch, I ran into town to do some errands and now I’m here enjoying a delicious supper with my beautiful wife.  Life is good.”

Juliette gives him a fond smile and as they eat, they laugh and talk, making plans for the next day and the months ahead.  They will spend time with their grandchildren.  Leo will plant more roses in the garden.  Juliette will take up quilting again.  They will travel to France and visit the village where her parents met and fell in love.

At last, they both take a final bite of the sweet and spicy apple pie.  They pack up the remains of the picnic and stroll hand-in-hand down to the water’s edge where he launches the bright pink kite once again over the ocean.