The clarity of my memory was funny, it came and went, but I felt certain that I had been on this beach, in this bay, before.
Perhaps it was the scent of the sea, seaweed, and the aromatic plants on the shore that took me back. Or the azure water, the sandy beach or the dark craggy rocks that caught in the folds of my memory.
Yes, the island in the far distance, in my memory I clearly saw a lighthouse there. Not visible here, but as you sailed out beyond the headland it would come into view, built of the hard stone that makes up the coast. On stormy nights it saved many a sailor, and its booming voice could be heard on foggy days and nights.
Now I remember with clarity why I was there. There is a cave just beyond the tideline. I’d been snorkeling in the bay and found a small chest, iron clad and rusted shut. The cave had seemed a good place to hide it. I was only eleven and it was exciting to hide a treasure chest. Plus my brother would have claimed it if I’d shown it him.
Now it was thirty years later, was it still there?
The dubloons had bought me my yatch. Now I am free to visit the bay any time I want.