I miss the ocean of my childhood, but you can’t see Colorado in the Atlantic.
(We’d go to the beach, and I couldn’t swim. I didn’t like the sun. We would listen to the transistor radio. Boring news. Corny old time songs. Gritty ham sandwiches and warm soda. Every other week, every summer. I’m not sure when my nostalgia for those days started. Perhaps the last time we drove away, even as I gratefully sank into the backseat of the air-conditioned car.)