But What About the Waves?

We recently returned from our version of the Great American Road Trip Beach Vacation.  It was lovely.  On the way down, I listened to a Hemingway book, so I feel the need to sum up a major theme of our vacation (in a very poor imitation) in his honor:

The waves were tall and dark green. There was much foam. The flag flying above the distant estación de policía was red. And there was much foam on the green waves.

“I only want fries,” he said.

“You need protein,” I said.

“I only want fries,” he said.

“You cannot live on fries,” I said. “All doctors agree on this. You need protein.”

“Doctors are fools,” he said.

The camarero stood in embarrassed silence, wishing only to take the order back to the cocina.

“Fries for the niño,” I said. “And chicken.”

The boy scowled but said nothing.

Outside, there was much foam on the waves.
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