The Beach I Roam

It was the sunset and the rolling whooshing sound of the waves that returned me to those beaches.  I imagine my footprints are left in the sand strata showing my growth into a boy, later into a young man, and finally, one day, an old man suddenly veering off into the sea. My story will run that following friday in the local paper--a story about a man not deceased but now swimming with the mermaids that bathed upon the sandy shores of his fantastical beach world.