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Whose idea it was,
An early morning picnic by the beach!
The air is cold and the sea is loud
With the sea gulls all clattering
my husband fancies taking a dip
with the children all clamoring.
as the dog runs chasing rabbits 
the wind’s thick as soup.
	While I lay here in the picnic mat alone
	Brushing sand off my dress,
There is a click and I look up
And see my daughter with the camera.
I frown and send her away
Wondering  could it get any worse,
Before I could finish the thought
I look down , see the tiny ants,
Good, good ; the ants are here ,I say
 I didn’t even know there were ants in beaches
 I shake them off while I constantly wonder
Whose idea it was; whose indeed.

Twenty years later in the basement,
Going through some stuff, 
I find the old photograph 
Of the Sunday morning
In the photo ,  
I see my husband in his shorts
Ready for a swim,
My three children , the dog
Everything I remember clearly,
It was the one my 
daughter took;
of our early morning picnic by the sea.
My husband’s been gone four years now,
My kids are busy 
 making houses and memories
with wonderful families and happy lives,
all in their own new worlds

they all looked so happy
while I was galled
all of it a lifetime ago,
in that Sunday morning
of my life 
as I close my eyes
and go back there and reminisce, 
of that morning by the picnic mat,
with heavy baskets in my guard,
I feel the breeze and look ahead
In the fresh sun
I see my husband, young and happy
I look at the kids 
and see time flying away
With the sand 
Blowing in the wind
I look at them playing
And say, 
‘never grow up’
In the moment,
twenty years of  late,
by the Sunday morning 
I look at the  sea and smile 
on the beach, 
And I am happy for a while.

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