Would.
She would take him to walk the beach.
He would
wear a long-sleeved striped shirt,
and she
would
don a pink coat with hood; mom and boy a picture on the seashore.
Would
she ever think about leaving him on the beach, alone, to fend for himself; a neo-Spartan infant fighting for survival against wolves and winter, but on Oregon beach and seagulls?
The waves would lap close to their ankles, and Jamey would squeal in terror, and were Mom to have run away, would he have perished in the slight water, alone?
He would;
he would;
he would
certainly have laid down and let the tide carry him, in a glorious Viking burial ceremony, at two years old, and still alive while the sea carried him to grave or to voyage beyond to Poloian glories perhaps;
Would
that have been a sad history; yes, were it to have happened, but it did not, because Mom knew what the world would miss, and it was him, it would have been him. I would have it not otherwise.
Would
it were that reality remain what it was and is; would it were different, I would wish it to be what it is now.
A boy, no longer two, walks with his younger brother, also no longer two. A bird swoops by in the background; a winged predator looking to savage the seas or the surrounding sands for its next meal. We can hope it finds it somewhere away from our protagonists. Would it be so.
