She Promised, Tylor Mehringer ’22, acrylic and pen, 14” x 11”
of my feet, afraid to move for fear they might tighten their grip. My father stands further out, bleary eyes peering into the surf. “Right there!” He motions for me to join him, anticipation overflowing from his gap-toothed grin. I scream in excitement, disregarding the crabs to accompany him on his sandbar lookout. This is the first time he has paid attention to me since I
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can remember. He hoists me onto his shoulders with a grunt, hands covered in the sweet smell of sweat and alcohol. I watch him point to a blip on the distant horizon. “If you look close enough you can see her tail.” I squint, trying to trace the line of his finger to any detectable sign of life. Nothing. “It just looks like a dot to me, Dad.”