MARI
I stared out of Pierce's large patio door at the view of the ocean in the back of his home as I sipped on my glass of orange juice. The position was one I'd become familiar with often the last few days, as if the ocean called to me. I never stopped to admire the view or the waves as they crashed across the beach when I lived in San Francisco. There wasn't time then, but now time was all I had.
Guilt washed over me as the waves ripped sand from the beaches each time they pulled back out to sea. I missed days of hard work. It was odd to miss something I'd once despised. Hard labor. Putting my hands in the dirt and helping villagers learn how to irrigate water to the gardens, something I knew nothing about before going to Guatemala. How could two pieces of me be in such conflict? Rich
