But this morning was different.
He wasn’t sure why. The fog rolled in just the same as it always had. The moan of the fog horns across the bay reminded him of the days he’d spent on the boats and down the river. The fog horns seemed to echo forever in his mind.
Most mornings drank his coffee and listened to the seagulls and other water birds assert their place in the bay.
But this morning he didn’t even notice the call of the seagulls right above him. Much less the sounds of a truck engine pulling up behind him.
He turned at the sound of feet on the gravel path that leads to the outcrop of giant boulders that overlooked the bay.
She stood not far behind him.
Still on the gravel.
“You had to come, Didn’t you?” Her windbreaker futtered in the breeze letting the mist get in and dampen the plaid shirt she wore under the old jacket.
Feeling the wet, she moved her arms and closed it tight around her middle.
He didn’t say anything, just shifted his feet and looked down at the wet rock he was standing on.
“ You know I have to.” Was all he could muster.
Even those few words were more then he wanted to say.
“He’s not coming back.”
“I know. … But I need to make sure.”
She joined him on the rock. Taking his hand, she pulled him close. Wrapping her arms around him.”I miss him too.” she softly muttered to him ad she buried he head into his shoulder.
The fog horns blew their call to the distant ships as they stood on the rock missing a son who would never come back.