Feet at the Beach

For 25 years I never heard back from him no matter how many times I tried. It was like the cold war. Later he told me he wasn't "allowed" to see or speak of me. Just don't tell them, I said at the time. I can't do that, he insisted.

He had no boundaries. I think of those clear plastic models of the human body in science class where you could see through the skin to the colorful internal organs, eyes, and brain. Occasionally I'd ask Where are you and he would send a photo of his toes poking out of beach sand or cheeses on display in France.

All the communication devices in the world seem to be inconvenient to him. Yet he occasionally sends snapshots and videos of his girlfriend's ugly dog napping or a plate of restaurant food or his feet walking in foreign countries.