“You and I, we have salt water in our veins.” Beth wrapped her arms around her younger half-sister Margie, rocking slightly forward on the edge of the pier behind their house.
“That seems scientifically suspect,” Margie replied, pressing back against her sister to keep them from going into the bay.
Beth sighed dramatically. “You have no sense of poetry.”
“That’s true,” Margie laughed, “But I’ll be quiet if you want to make your poetic point.”
“Thank you.” Beth cleared her throat and started again in a dramatic voice. “You and I, we have salt water in our veins. Our ancestors were born on the sea. It’s in our blood to want to be out on the open water. The Freedom. The Beauty. The Danger. We yearn for it in our very souls.” She gave her sister a squeeze around the shoulders. “Too much?”
“Meh,” Margie shrugged, “Can’t we just say, ‘Hey Mom, we want to go out on the sea?’”
Beth heaved another sigh. “You have no sense of poetry.”
Margie smiled again, focusing her eyes out on the horizon. “I suppose that’s still true.”