November 19, 2007, Word Count 30516

My phone calls completed, I put the car into drive and started out on the Hatteras Lighthouse Road back to Highway 12. I spent the rest of the day touring the area by car, finding the nooks and crannies that defined small towns – those out of the way places that tourists rarely saw and, in truth, weren’t all that interested in. I finally turned north to Avon and the large grocery store there. Inside, I picked up a steak and some new potatoes, a six pack of Bass Ale and some chocolate. I felt the need to celebrate something – some kind of liberation that was just starting inside me. I paid for my purchases and drove back to Hatteras to Risky Business, where I had them steam some shrimp in their spicy seasoning.

The light was just beginning to fade as I walked up the stairs to my house. I walked in and called to Pippi, who came running and mewling for food. After I fed her and put the new potatoes on to boil, I took the steak to the gas grill outside. As it sizzled over the flames, I sat in a deck chair and drank a Bass, watching the sky turn that Quinacridone Magenta shade that always made me want to pull out my paints and try to capture it. The clouds formed radiant waves in the sky that echoed the indigo waves below. When the steak was done, I walked back into the house and drained the potatoes and added butter, salt and pepper to them, sliced the steak and opened a new beer. I went back out on the deck to eat and watch the sky make its journey from day into night. The magic of the light rested on the feldspar rich sand of the beach, turning it from light tan to pink, then through purple to a rich blue-gray of shadow. I knew that when the moon came out it would change it again to a silvery white ghostly plain.

When the food was finished and the second beer drained, I walked back inside and opened the package of chocolates. I peeled the silver paper from one and popped it into my mouth and remembered Charlie’s kisses. I placed the rest of the bag in the refrigerator and closed it. I wasn’t ready to remember Charlie, today. I wasn’t ready to give him up quite yet.