100 Words - Shores Of The Past

trash at beach
Photo by Tobias Tullius on Unsplash

I stand on the shore, at the far end of America, feeding scraps of nostalgia to the sea gulls. The ghost of Daisy, the dog of my youth, stands guard over the horseshoe crabs. The salt air longs for the taste of ice cream from the now extinct sandy-floored store.

It’s funny how rarely nostalgia works for me. It always starts nice but quickly spirals down to embarrassing events and moments of failure. I try to break the spiral by looking to the future. However, as my future shrinks I find myself living more in the present. Better that way.