The day the island sank into the sea, people were going about their daily business. There were transactions made at the warf. Books were checked out of the library. Radios were listened to. The late-morning wash was hung on clothes lines. Children slept late that day.

The island was in a general state of mid-summer festivities. Parties were planned. Barbeques were underway. People were laughing. I know there were people on that island who were laughing on the day it sank into the sea.

By the end of the afternoon, at about sunset, all that remained of that beautiful island were the remnants of the docks where the few island boats were kept. There was no debris. Nothing washed up on the beaches in the following days, weeks, months.

And it isn’t for lack of trying, because people looked. They looked. I looked. And nothing was ever found.

The island simply sank. It kissed the world goodbye, and it waded into the sea, just like the people had waded into the ocean from its golden shores.