Day Three of beach vacation. They awoke early. The sun wasn’t fully up, but obscured by a quiltwork of gray. It was balmy and warm. The seagulls were still asleep.

His blind 12-year-old goddaughter’s first words were “Can we go swimming in the ocean?”

“It’s not the ocean,” he explained for the 3,429th time. “It’s the Gulf of Mexico.” Then he defined the important differences once again.

She wanted eggs for breakfast. So he made eggs. She ate hers, then asked if he was going to eat his.

“I planned on it,” he replied, mid-bite.

“Well,” she said, “I can eat your eggs if you’re not hungry.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

She smiled at him.

So he ate a granola bar.

After the kid polished off two plates, she said, “Can we go swimming in the ocean?”

“It’s not the ocean,” he restated. “It’s the Gulf. And isn’t it a little early for swimming?”

“What time is it?”

“Seven,” he said.

“That’s not too early for swimming in the ocean.”

“Gulf.”

“Whatever.”

So the odd couple left the rental condo. They were barefoot, carrying beach towels, wearing bathing suits.

One dorky, pale, out-of-shape, middle-aged writer with a hairy back and oversized feet. And one 12-year-old blind girl in floral-print swimwear.

Together they walked along the unstable sand. He held her hand tightly because sand is difficult to navigate when you’re blind.

No people were on the beach that morning because it was too early. So the man and the girl had the whole Gulf of Mexico to themselves.

They eased into the green water a little after sunrise. It was bitingly cold at first. The first wave crashed around their knees and delivered a shock to the system. What an exciting way for a middle-aged man to wake up.

“Don’t worry,” said the 12-year-old, “the ocean will get warmer, you just have to get used to it.”

“Gulf,” he said. “And how you can you know that? You’re only twelve.”

“I know things.”

The blind girl and the idiot waded into the waves. The breakers were crashing into them. They made a game out of it. With each incoming wave, they screamed happily. He tossed her little body into the surf. She plunged into the water and laughed so hard she had to catch her breath.

“Can we go out deeper?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Please?”

So they did. She held onto the man, sort of like a baby holds onto Mama. Arms slung around his neck. Legs wrapped around his midsection. Soon the water was up to his chest.

They bobbed in the surf together like pieces of driftwood. Then the blind girl let go of him and leaned backward into the water. With total abandon. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Just floating.”

He held her feet so she knew he was there.

“Don’t let go,” she said.

“I won’t.”

Her small body drifted atop the water. Eyes closed. Face illuminated with the kind of honest smile that only a blind human being is capable of.

“Thank you for letting me eat your eggs,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“I love the ocean.”

“Gulf.”

“Whatever.”