Out the open window, I saw Dorothy's nieces and nephew. They had taken their cake and glasses of champagne out onto the beach. Someone had opened a map and laid it on the sand between them. They were all pointing to places, as if planning a trip. I remembered seeing them together long ago on the lake beach in New Hampshire, envying their family closeness. (We kept more to ourselves in my family.) Now, as I watched them sitting together, laughing and talking, it seemed as if no time had passed, and we were all children down by the lake -- my brother and I engaged in our separate pursuits, while they worked happily together, building a castle in the sand.