Where to buy the book

A Handful of Seawater is available in eBook and paperback formats. See the links in the right-hand sidebar.

It is also available through special order at all brick-and-mortar stores.

Enjoy!

A Few Scenes From The Book

“Come. I show you something,” Natalie smiled at Morgan, grabbed a machete and headed out into the jungle without looking back. Morgan followed the tall, graceful figure obediently.

They walked north around the extinct volcano, staying at the same altitude about one third of the way up the slope. Natalie hacked through the bush, the long machete slashing back and forth continuously. With each movement the muscles in her shoulders flexed then relaxed above the well-wrapped Hazel who slept soundly in the cloth that her mother had wrapped around her waist. They were walking through the rainforest in a fog of green, following an old footpath that was grown over with vines and shrubs. The moss and small ferns tickled their bare feet. Neither of them spoke.

The symphony of the jungle would have made it difficult to hear her if she had spoken. The monkeys and tree frogs kept up a constant soprano chatter while the wind shushed them as it blew through the canopy.

Morgan admired the strong hips and legs of this beautiful woman who had spent her life on the sides of mountains. She was so much taller than him; he felt like a small child following his mother to her garden. The polished ebony skin of her back and shoulders was gleaming from the warm mist that hung motionless beneath the dense canopy. Her heavy hoop earrings danced from side to side as the machete swished through the greenery.

She had fascinated him from the moment he first saw her. To him she was far more beautiful than any of the girls that had rejected him at school or in the village. Her eyes were wide-set with long lashes and her skin—even though it was the same color as his—seemed to shine. She never wore anything above the waist which Morgan still found completely distracting. He hadn't been able to talk to her, at least not coherently.

Everything on the ship seemed strange to Morgan. Every new room or deck he entered was a completely new experience. This deck seemed only as unusual as everything else for a few seconds. He’d expected to see a sea of white people when the elevator door opened, so on stepping out of the elevator he wasn’t surprised. Then as his eyes got used to the glare of the sunlight, he noticed that the man walking toward him carrying a cocktail in each hand was wearing nothing but sunglasses. Feeling like he needed to avert his eyes, Morgan looked around to see where the trash receptacles were located. Sometime during the few seconds that it took to pass his eyes around the deck, he began to understand what kind of clothing “optional” was. He specifically noticed that only the bartender and the two waitresses had opted to wear anything at all.

After he completed his round and was about to go back out on deck with his dumpster full, he noticed a black man in a white tuxedo standing next to his wife who was wearing a floor length emerald dress with white pearls on her ears and a pearl necklace. Alden had never seen black people looking so wealthy; he wondered if the man might be the governor-general of one of the islands. Alden watched them putting tokens in a slot machine, four tokens at a time, then pulling the handle so the pictures on the front would spin and lights would flash. Then they’d do it again, and again. To Alden it seemed like a silly thing to do.

Then they stopped; the couple appeared to have come to the same conclusion as Alden. They looked at each other. The woman put her hand around the man’s arm just above the elbow and moved a step away from the slot machine. The man nodded. As they turned to walk out of the casino they passed where Alden was standing. The man held out his hand as if to shake hands with him. Alden held out his hand but the man took it with his left hand and with his right put eight tokens in Alden’s hand and smiled.

“Thank you sir,” said Alden.

“Have a pleasant evening,” smiled the woman as the two glided away into the night.

Alden looked down at the coins in his hand. Each one said “One Euro” and “Only for use in casino.” He thought that he probably should leave them in the machine, so he went over to the machine and put in four coins. He pulled the handle and it whirred and flashed like before, and like before nothing more happened. So he put the other four coins in the machine and pulled the handle. The machine did as before but this time the same picture appeared three times across the face of the machine, bells rang and a pile of coins came out the bottom.

“Oh no!” thought Alden, “I’ll be here for hours putting all these coins back in the machine.”

“What are you doing?” asked a voice behind him.

“I be putting de coins in de machine,” said Alden, “I go put them all in. Don’t worry, man.”

Why I wrote the book

As I was reading the proof copy of the book, it dawned on me; this is about my mother.  Mom died in 2002.  I started the book in 2003 as a few short stories for creative writing courses at Northwest Florida State College.  The main theme of the book is about a boy dealing with the loss of his mother when he was a small child.  I lost my mother as an old man but that wouldn't have made much of a story.

I also realized that the book came from grieving for many of the things I've lost since 1988.  Much of that grief is about leaving Grenada; I wanted to spend the rest of my life there.  I still feel after 20 years that my heart is there and I'll never recover it fully.  Some of the grief is about losing a daughter that meant the world to me.  And there's grief about my own youth and how I misused the potential. 

But the book isn't a sad book.  It's a little sad at the beginning but it gets a lot better.  The book is about spiritual growth--learning who we really are and how to recognize important things and not hold onto unimportant things.

As `Abdu'l Bahá said, "If we are not happy and joyous at this season, for what other season shall we wait?"

Keep reading,

Ron