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The boards were rough. Unfinished planks, gouged out in some places, worn from sea water and wind. The pier rose out over 100 feet into the Gulf of Mexico and was lined with pelicans in hopes of meeting a lazy fisherman not watching his pail of freshly caught prey. We walked this pier nearly every day; To the end and back, hand in hand. Always regretting never wearing our flip flops as we dodged the more broken planks. Watching the wind across the choppy gulf with white caps too numerous to count and revelling in the fact there was only now.  Arms brushing arms, cinnamon sparkled noses and cheeks to kiss and salty lips to linger on while white clouds drifted in and out of the suns face. This was our spring bliss, forever engrained in our minds, imprinted on our hearts. 

(Photo from