Part Eight of The Unseen Sea

“Grandad,” asks Jessica, taking his hand as they walk up the face of the sand dune. “What is a me?”

He looks down at the golden-haired child and shakes his head in admiration. He knows it is not unusual for children to have these thoughts, but his grandaughter seems positively precocious with such considerations. It pleases him a lot, but he doesn’t want to give her too much, too soon. He wants her to enjoy the journey to understanding in a gentle way, at a pace of her own. But, he has to admit, she’s the one pushing things, not him.

He draws a breath to answer her question but then takes stop himself; not sure how to begin. He pauses, letting the moment reveal its own potential. “Shall we sit down for our picnic and consider the puzzle of me?” he…