They say the memory is first to go.
But it would be hard to forget the unfolding of fear, anxiety, and youthful power of the moment. Then again, had he never been set free, he remembers thinking; the Frisbees would continue to fly and sun tan oil (can you imagine?) would still be spread.
Once outside the jailhouse in Daytona Beach he began to walk briskly across the parking lot. Looking back, he recalls wondering if they would change their minds and apprehend him again (again ...for no reason) and put him back in that dungeon. And with the sun shining and a semester of anticipation for this week, two days in hell seemed like a dungeon.
The other student released was mirroring his gate, and with each swifter step, he wanted to go faster. No words. Just some strange unleashing of pent up energy, as if reaching for his mother’s arms, he started to run. They ran down the city sidewalks toward….toward the beach of course. They were in full sprint now and the sight of the slow spilling waves on the beach brought a smile to his face, and then a burst of laughter, and joy.
And then he stopped, and he looked out to his amazement. The beach was in full swing, and his friends were all right where we always hung out, having the fun that we always have, but he was not in the picture. He was standing over here and the world was going on over there, without him. That’s just the way it is he realized, right then and right there.
Sure, as he approached he noted their interest, questions and concern, but very quickly it was buried over by the girls they had met and the party planned for tonight. He knelt down in the sand and tried to absorb the situation when he suddenly saw the Friz skid to a stop in front of him. Without a hesitation he was up throwing and making diving grabs in the shallow surf. After all, the game must go on.
