All the times of their lives happened at the shore. She was a lifeguard. He was beach patrol. He tripped over her rescue board and she bandaged his wounded leg. Six weeks later they were married at sunrise, with ocean foam slapping at their feet.

Soon, she was building sandcastles with their youngest while he taught the older ones how to surf cast. Later, grandkids would overrun their beach house every summer. Then, when it was just the two of them again, they would spend hours connecting with the rhythm of waves washing over smooth sand, remembering.

This gray day, she wore his hooded sweatshirt to ward off the early morning chill. Opening an inscribed jar, she let the wind lift his ashes to find sanctuary in the sea. She pulled the soft shirt tighter around herself, savoring his warm embrace.

John Adinolfi is retired from a career in marketing. He considers creating marketing campaigns to have been the perfect training ground for writing fiction.