“Dad, am I going to get paid for cleaning the dingy?” I
heard the boy ask on the boat moored behind us.
I was thinking of cleaning our dingy. After hiking up to the summit of Mt.
Livermore, the well-trodden path guiding us through fragrant eucalyptus and
pine trees, we decided to stop at the beach.
Ken raised the engine of the dingy just as the fiberglass bottom scraped against the
shells rolling along the water’s edge.
We both jumped out, sinking into the sand, and pulled the boat up past
the tide line. He carried the sun shower
to a faucet in the park while I walked along the beach splashing in the
refreshing Bay water. We tracked some
sand into the dingy when we jumped back in and I thought that I would clean it
out before it ended up in Gitane’s
cockpit.
The reward for the boy was money. For me, the reward was simply having the
privilege of walking in this sandy place.
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