My last morning with my son here, so I invite him for a sunrise/moonset morning walk, early. He agrees, wakes early, and we’re out the door. We walk, in silence, up the waking up beach, busy with the birds, and there is moon the whole way, unobstructed by clouds. It’s cool, and I walk with my wet feet, under the pink sky. When we reach Beer Can Island, we sit on a log facing the surf. It’s a long, low tide, white caps frothing, layer after layer. We meditate for fifteen minutes; we’re silent, the waves swish and swash, the gulls call. Soon, we finish our walk, even beyond Longboat Pass Bridge, we reach the lagoon and want to circle it, but the mangroves hold all the beach, so we turn back., head home, we talk about his summer plans, his fall plans, finishing his degree. Later, they depart for the airport. Frank and I say goodbye to them in the driveway, climb the stairs to the front door. We are a little bit sad. The three couples have all come and gone, like the full moon. We enter the final phase of the trip. I strip the beds, wash the towels. More company arrives tonight.