Brother X cranked up a portable record player in our religion class and played A World of Our Own by The Seekers. On the chalkboard he wrote: A World of Our Own? Yes?
My father, just a boy back then, dozes on the beach under the palm trees on a sunny Sunday afternoon. His sister and brother call for him to play with them in the water. He pulls his hat over his eyes. Coconuts fall near him with soft thuds. Stray dogs sniff his pockets. Sometimes he watches the massive, other-worldly cruise ships pull out of Old San Juan Port miles and miles away. They take so long to sail over the horizon.