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I’m not who you think I am, I had said to T.J. the last time I’d seen him. Maybe I wasn’t who I’d thought I was either.

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My skin prickled and I looked back at the ocean. None of us ask for the things we inherit; they are thrust upon us, willy-nilly. Like The Marine.
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I suddenly understood. Mom and I weren’t trespassing. This house was ours. This view was ours. And that seemed as absurd and unreal as the stories Sailor Hat had spun for me on the ferry.
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I’m not who you think I am, I had said to T.J. the last time I’d seen him. Maybe I wasn’t who I’d thought I was either.
AIMEE FRIEDMAN

Either Him Lst Maybe Seen Think Thought Time Who
It was always the same ocean, but the waves made it fresh and new each time.
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And until I had it fixed in my mind – unchanged, mysterious and beautiful
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It struck me then how much the past – not just the past but history and family – was like the ocean tide.
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When people went on vacation, they shed their home skins, thought they could be a new person.
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I couldn’t think. The basics of my life seemed altered and thrown into question.
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