Fought my way through Alculpoco traffic late in the afternoon. I stayed
there long enough to fill up with gas and get lost a couple times. That was
longer than I wanted to be there. The only thing I wanted to see of
Alculpoco was the bay because it was the only thing that hasn't changed from
my memory. Memories of Alculpoco given to me by Grandpa Wright. His
stories of going there while in the Navy, 1938. After turning the map right
side up I found my way out of town. I stopped for a bite to eat at a
restaurant that sat right on the beach. They had no real food left so I
settled for a double order of appetizers, but they only had enough for one.
So I settled for even less.
A dreamy tropical sunset soon took my mind from the hunger. The beach ran
east/west. I sat there with my toes in the sand and nothing to interrupting
my view. I sat facing south across the water. Facing south and facing the
rest of my trip and wondering what misadventures lie ahead.
That evening God had painted the sunset with a foreground of blue ocean and
a background of red sky. I sat in my beach chair tired from driving letting
that sunset project itself on my mind with its foreground of lucidity and a
background of dream, and I dreamed. Looking toward the setting sun I
studied the entrance of Alculpoco Bay. In the distance I could see the coal
smoke of an old ship, the USS Medusa, my grandpas ship, and he was pulling
into port, Alculpoco 1938. I dreamed still further that I had returned to
that Alculpoco, the Alculpoco of my memories. There I shook the hand of a
young man who I only knew when he was old. Together we explored Alculpoco
one more time and relived our memories together. For my memories of
Alculpoco are not my own. They are my grandpa's. And his memories of
Alculpoco are no longer his they are ours. Now to all our memories of
Alculpoco I add one new memory, a memory of tears, because this Alculpoco of
ours is gone except for the memories, and now too my grandpa is gone, except
for the memories.
