The sand was so white and the sky so blue, she lay on the beach cooking in the August sun, while I pretended to catch dinner, my rod never quivering in the Atlantic surf.

Almost asleep, dreaming of nothing, this unassuming woman was the happiest I ever knew. The world stood still, only the rising tide was moving. The whole afternoons are snapshots in my tortured mind, why did I let her go? She was so slim, so pretty, so classy in her one piece racing suit. Her soft Southern accent melted my Canadian soul, I was so far from home.

Anxieties of living were behind me now, we strutted our Rolls back to our 1769 Pinckney mansion to dress for dinner. Whimsically, we suggested tonight's restaurant and libations, Charleston's list seemed never-ending. We may have time for some shagging, her teenage dance, but in our thirties, we generally were too tired. We need our rest for our weekend's pleasure in Asheville or perhaps Boone, North Carolina.

Tomorrow, the Historical Society will send a lieutenant to argue me donating the facade of our home to them in perpetuity. Than Nguyen will present one of her wonderful authentic Vietnamese meals, and I'll send him away, tongue in cheek, after the city refused street parking for her, our beautiful housekeeper.

We relax in the sauna, then choose the cavernous Jaccuzi or the solar powered, cooled swimming pool, then retire to the National Landmark paneled sitting room, questioning the silliness of cranking the air conditioning so we can enjoy one of the thirteen fireplaces.

A quiet moment brought forward a most unusual remark, Pattie casually suggesting her life would be shortened by her puny health and lack of exercise. I ignored her fatalistic comment. She was as gorgeous, trim, and vibrant as any fantasy I ever fathomed.

Many years of decadent lifestyle continued, but boredom and apathy set up and our romance fizzled and dwindled, until it slipped away, with no official termination, simply wandering and travelling in two directions.

Twenty years have now past, my life taking me to Florida to quench my thirst of owning a horse racing stable. She remained in her town, immersing herself in real estate and home decor businesses.

I found myself in Winnipeg, Canada when I woke up, everything gone, penniless, homeless, but of the same spirit. Alcohol, drugs, gambling, and womanizing are pleasures I only wish I could blame for putting me down the drain, but a spoiled apethetic attitude is more honest. When the Salvation Army refused my admission to their men's shelter, and welfare denied me, for the crime of being formerly wealthy, only my brother saved my soul, sharing his poorly motel room and lentil beans. He also fell off his luck and chose the planet's coldest city to park himself.

While watching endless television, the phone decided to make a rare notification, my brother squeamishly lifting the device to his ear. A friend had purchased a beach home in Charleston and was catching up on stories and people we had forgotten decades ago. His laughter and excitement turned very quiet, my eyes opened wide, as I sat straight up in bed, I knew. He silently placed the receiver down. Pattie died, breast cancer, 52 years old.

There is certain relief of having absolutely nothing, no stress, no responsibility, no reason to get up in the morning. At least, that's what you tell yourself. It's almost selfish to know you make no contribution to society, but instead of guilt, it's easier to be jealous of everyone making even a modest life. The strength of human character is to rely on corny old sayings during diversity, an axiom such as "it's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all", is quite comforting. Unfortunately, another saying is, "Ignorance is bliss". If you never experienced the elevated lifestyle of wealth and privilege, you probably have no knowledge of how truly great it is.

At least I have time to consider where my sweethaeart is now residing. My days remaining will always be haunted, questioning what stupidity caused me not to ask her hand in marriage. Money comes and goes, but Pattie will always be gone.

Now it's me that's cooking in the sun, in the knowledge of reaching utopia, and blindly letting it slide, forever lost, forever sad.

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