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December 25 I finally got through shoveling all that mud from behind the beach house. I hosed it off and when I got done it looked almost normal again. I may have to scrub it with a brush. But I was exhausted–hot, sweaty, muddy. I went down to the water and stripped off my shorts, jumped in and let the ocean roll over me for a while. It felt wonderful. When I finally headed back in I saw that something had washed up on the shore. It was a wine bottle, a Cline Zinfandel 2002, with a cork still stuck in the top. I love the Cline Zinfandel, but there wasn’t any left in the bottle. There was a rolled-up note, cliché as it sounds, and on it the words ‘Blessed Christmas.’ December 26 I kept wondering where that bottle had come from. On Christmas night I slept out on the sleeping platform and could have sworn that I saw a light on the horizon. A boat? Would that explain it? Some well-wishing sailor with a preference for Cline Zinfandel who had steered near enough to my island to toss a. She didn't look sad or upset, but she didn't look happy either. She looked like she was seeing something, something I'd missed. It made me curious."Getting' tired of staring at us yet, Aims?" I asked.She slowly raised her palms to her cheeks and slapped them onto her face as though finally getting something. What though?"Look," she said. "Don't you see that?" See what?"My hand was caressing Charlotte's chin now. Then the camera did a slow zoom into our faces."What do you see, Amy?" Charlotte asked. Now she was curious too. She turned away from my neck and looked at the TV. Amy looked at us like we were both blind and crazy. But then her confused look faded and she just stared at us for a moment, sitting there on the couch, almost on top of one another."What?" Charlotte asked after a moment. "What do you see?" Nothing," Amy said. "It's just a really nice movie."But there was a tear in her eye all of a sudden. What the hell?"You okay, Aims?" I asked."I'm alright. You know what? I get.
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