There is nothing on the beach except an empty bottle that has been washed up and left all alone, stranded without any explanation.  As I sit watching the waves hit the bottle I feel myself pulled to the little town of Brighton, and the swing-set in the back yard of the little yellow house.  A little boy pumping his legs back and forth, going higher and higher.  Watching the side of the house out of the corner of his eyes.  Seeing nothing made him continue to keep pumping his leg to go faster and faster, and higher and higher.  The sun would start to go down and the cool air would start to come in.  Slowly the little boy would let the swing come to a stop.  He would walk to the side of the house like he had been doing every day for the past 2 months, and see the same empty driveway. 
Walking back to the swing the little boy remember the smell of violets.  His mother’s hair always smelled of violets.  He is not sure if it was the shampoo she used, but that smell would always bring a smile to his face, but then it would only last for a minute and be replaced with loneliness of her leaving without saying a word. 
His grandmother opened the back door and called to him to come in.  He takes one last look at the empty driveway and goes inside the house.
Back on the beach I look at the bottle, now being hit with the waves and feel myself relating to the lonely emptiness of the bottle.  Alone on the beach.  Maybe someone just threw it in the water because they were sick of it and didn’t want to have it around anymore.  Maybe they thought that carrying the bottle around with them was just adding to their own reminders of being left alone with a little boy to raise all on their own.  They bottle makes me feel empty and longing for my mother to return and tell me why she left me at my grandmother’s house without saying goodbye, without telling me she would never come back. 
I sat on the beach watching the tide start to hit the bottle, rocking it back and forth.  As I watched I wondered what the next destination of this empty bottle was.  Would it just continue to float around in the ocean without a cause, or would it eventually be picked up and thrown out.  There is a chance that someone might find this empty bottle and look at it and think it has great potential.  Someone could turn it into a work of art to be displayed for everyone to see how incredibly successful this little empty bottle turned out to be.  And even maybe someday the person who first threw away this little empty bottle might feel some remorse and come back and explain why they abandoned it in the first place.
As I let me thoughts drift, I watched the bottle slowly float away out to sea.