A man stands on the snow-dusted boardwalk. His expensive Armani all weather coat flaps in the breeze. His shiny black city loafers have a salt ring around the bottom of them from walking on the rock-salted streets of his hometown. For it is December and cold, even in the bright sun. He leans his lanky frame against the railing, resting on his elbows, and blinks against the sunlight falling on the water. He left his sunglasses in the cab as he rushed to the airport to catch the last flight out to Maine yesterday. He wished he had them now.


Frank wouldn’t be here at this time of year ordinarily. When the kids were younger, he and his wife, Gloria, tried to bring them up to visit the folks at the cottage. But now they are young adults and have their own interests. His partnership with two of his old college buddies in a company start-up consulting business in New York City takes up most of his time these days. His wife has all she can do to drag him away from his desk, but she’s a city girl anyways and time with his family in slower-paced Shoreville, Maine, is not all that much fun for her. She’d much prefer to vacation on a cruise ship somewhere. Of course a summer home closer to a popular resort area in Maine would be acceptable, especially when they retire.


As a sudden gust of wind blew threw his graying hair, he turned away. But not wanting to leave just yet, not wanting to face what was across the way from the fancy new office building next to the boardwalk he stood on, he turned back to face the sea. He tasted salt on his tongue as he watched a lone gull drifting on the wind drafts high in the sky.


The new man in town has done wonders for this old place he thought. I used to play with my buddies along this stretch of shore. But then there were wharf rats as big as cats that scurried between the rocks where the sewer pipes emptied into the sea. And over on the point, fish guts from the fish factory also emptied into the sea. Now there is a treatment plant to handle all that. Matter of fact, about where I’m standing now was the Whitehead place. My best buddy, Charlie, lived here. The kitchen window looked out over the water. As much as you could see anyway, what with the salt spray making a permanent film on it. The view was much different though. There were a couple of old rusted barges with cranes and stuff on them, and an abandoned lobster boat, its bottom covered with barnacles, rotting bit by bit in the clam flats as each high tide washed sand and rocks through its big empty side.


We lived on a side street just a couple blocks away and my sister still lives close by with her brood. She’ll send one of her brats to find me if I don’t head back soon. I don’t know how mother puts up with all that noise and confusion. Linda insisted she come stay with her for a while and leave the small apartment she and Louis took when they sold the big house. There are always too many grandkids hanging around Linda’s place. She should get paid for all the free childcare she gives out while the kids’ parents are working. I wish Mother would come and stay with us in New York, but I know that will never happen. She’d miss her great-grandchildren too much and all the friends she and Louis have here. Oh well, maybe she’ll at least come and visit us.


I was so lucky to get out when I did. I think I’m the only one in the neighborhood who went to college and sought opportunities away from the small world these people live in. I don’t even know where my old gang is now. I expect most of them are still around. Hell, half of them didn’t even make it through first year of high school. Charlie is probably hauling traps off his old man’s boat. Winny, damn, he’s probably in jail or something. I used to see him hanging around the pool room a lot on my way home from school. Dummie Darrell, G.G., Tim McCaffey, who knows. I did hear that Arnie came back in a body bag from ‘Nam. If I saw any of them today, I don’t know what I’d say to them. We live in such different worlds now. We’d have nothing to talk about. One person I don’t want to run into is Earl Phillipson. Nothing ever went right for that kid and he almost pulled me down with him. I got out by the skin of my teeth and I plan to stay out of the whole mess. I still have nightmares about that affair, and they are worse every time I come up here, which is why I haven’t been back for so many years. The sooner I get out of here, the better. The man who built this boardwalk may have done us all a huge favor without even realizing it.


The sun went under a cloud and a sudden icy blast of wind blew in Frank’s face. He turned with his back to the sea, against the wind, pulling his unbuttoned coat closer to him. For the first time since he’d come down to get a look at the new boardwalk, he noticed other people around him. He looked at them closer to see if he recognized anybody, but not seeing any familiar faces, he looked down at the end of the boardwalk where it ended at the Public Landing and thought he should probably get back to Linda and his mother.