It is older than I am. There are mud dauber nests in it. There is rust. It should have been tossed while cleaning out the house on Enwood.
I even placed it near the trash cans several times. Every time I moved it around I thought of sand and waves and the green Cox camper.
In the end I just couldn’t let it go. It was such a loyal guardian on all those beach trips.
I can still see my daddy pushing it around and around to get its point deep into the sand.
So here it is now, in my garden, protecting the fish from cooking in their pond on these hot days in July.
It still has a job to do. It is no longer pretty, but still sturdy and useful.
It still has value. I am grateful for this umbrella and the memories it holds and the protection it gives. My daddy is still helping me in so many ways.

FLOW