We were 16 that summer
the oldest in the group of kids all wild on the island
There is a picture of us on the skipping stone beach at summer’s end
ranged from tallest on down
From 16 to 7 and three-quarters
Brit’s arm careless across my shoulders, wide smile, strong nordic bones
We boldly stare the camera down

That was the summer we had our first sleep out on the east facing cove at the island’s end

A long curve of beach all rounded cobbles and pea gravel and full of the waves’ murmur through the stones

A night flung with stars and the sea spangled and flecked with pale phosphorescent fire

Brit and I walked the beach alone and came to stand
barefoot at the verge of land and sea
our cold hands met
and we turned breathless and wide-eyed to one another
I remember the night aglow in her eyes and her breath so close
And the kiss
a kiss that lasts partly because neither of knows how to end a kiss or what really happens next and,
as the first kiss, a kiss that has no end

In the gulf of time between summers we wrote
But the next July, she said it looked like Nico really liked me

The invitation came years later,
What’s a commitment ceremony, Carly asked
She was 6 and wanted answers not explanations
I decided honesty was easiest
I don’t know, I said. I’ve never been to one before.
But what is it, she insisted.
It’s like a wedding, like when me and Claire got married.
Good, said Carly, I didn’t get to go to that ‘casue I wasn’t borned

Do I know Brit, she asked.
Not yet, I said.

Five of us scooted across the bay in my tiny boat
6 inches of freeboard and square bowed.
Overloaded and then some.
I dodged the bigger waves but we were soaked with spray before we got in under the lighthouse
Our dress clothes were safe, stowed in a plastic trash bags

At the ferry terminal above the wharf
We changed from shorts and wet t-shirts into other skins
And met the others from that photo taken on the beach
All grown, from children and make believe, to now

Brit and her partner both beautiful in white
Brit's dad, the father of the bride, so proud
Her little brother Chris now the tallest of the group
Brought the spirit of their mother alive
And tears to every eye
And the other bride’s family a solid, empty absence.

We've never spoken of that night,
I still see her from time to time,
usually when I grubby and she
arrives on the island in white completely carefreely stylish and gorgeous,
On the island time and times slip
from then to now
from now to then
and now and then.