Tough Girl's Guide

I think that in the moment exactly before my death,  I will dream that I am lying on the beach, trying to relax and take a nap.  The sound of the waves will be a constant, but I’ll float between asleep and awake, hearing my uncle on a phone call from his beach chair perched eleven feet away.  I’ll look out over the grey ocean and see my four friends walking along the beach talking and laughing as their feet sink in the sand.  I’ll see my dad, from the waste up, just standing in the water, dumping hand fulls of ocean salt water over his bald head and rubbing his face with his hands.  I’ll close my eyes again and feel the breeze lightly tickle the peach fuzz on my back and hear my sister talking far too loudly and I’ll want to tell her she doesn’t have to yell, but instead I’ll just lay there and smile.  The woman will walk by with her rustling plastic bag full of frozen fruit and say, “mango…watermelon…mango” in a high-pitched, mexican way and I’ll keep my eyes closed so she’ll think I’m sleeping.  I’ll open my eyes slightly and see you sleeping peacefully next to me and I will close my  eyes again, soaking in the beauty of my life at that moment.