Daddy at the Beach - Original Short Story

This story is dedicated to my late stepfather, William Jackman. He really was a commercial fisherman; clams were among the many fish and shellfish he used to catch up and down the East Coast. He did used to take us to the beach when we lived in Cape May, New Jersey in the 80's and early 90's. He died of a long, terrible bout with cancer on October 28th. I miss you, Daddy. I hope you're walking on the beach somewhere, swimming and collecting shells with your friends...

Daddy at the Beach
By Emma Redmer

“Daddy?”

My daddy looked up at me from where we walked on the sand. My daddy is the most handsome man in the world. He has blue eyes and red hair and a bristly mustache that tickles your nose when you kiss him. When he smiles, it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. He's got a good laugh, the kind that bubbles up from your tummy like Santa Claus' ho-ho-hos.

“Yeah, Lizzie?” He smiled as I came over with my red plastic bucket. “What did you find over by the water?”

“Shells, Daddy!” I laughed and picked up a big white one with grayish stripes that was sort of shaped like a rounded triangle. “Lotsa and lotsa shells!”

“You sure found a lot of 'em.” Daddy grabbed me and took me on his lap. He has big, strong hands from catching fish all day on his boat. “That's a clam shell. Clams are really soft. Their shells protect them from fish an' other animals who wanna eat them.”

“Us too!” I grinned. “You catch clams!”

“Yeah, I do. And they sure like to protect their homes! They can be hard to cut into sometimes. You have to use a knife with 'em, get 'em between the shells.” He pulled out a long shell with sharp edges. “This one is called a razor clam. You've gotta be careful with this one. The edges can cut you if you grab it the wrong way.”

I picked up the shell, making sure to hold it so it wouldn't bite me. “You know everything about clams, Daddy!”

“I've been catchin' clams and fish for a long time, darlin'. You have to know about what you're catching.” He gently took me off his jeans and on the sand. “You're getting heavy! Soon, you'll be too big to sit on my lap.”

I hugged him hard. “I'll never be too big for you, Daddy.”

“We'll see how you feel about that in a few years.” He stood up and brushed off his jeans and hooded sweater. “I think it's time to move along. Your mom's gonna wonder where we are. She's probably already rolling up the beach blanket with your sisters.”

“Ok!” I brushed off my own pink leggings and took Dad's hand. “I love you, Daddy.”

Daddy gave me his great big smile back. “I love you too, Lizzie Boo.”

“Always, Daddy?”

“Always and always.”