I went to the beach yesterday. I was hoping despite the 100+ degree weather in NoHo, it would be much cooler by the water. Technically it was, but it was hard to tell. The water felt amazing though and the sound of the waves and being outside always refreshes me.
As I got in and out of the ocean I started to write this piece. It's the first short story I've written in as long as I can remember. Sometimes the stories don't come to me that easily. This one did.
Untitled - 8.28.2015
I
came out to the ocean today. I let the
water wash over me, cleansing me, reminding me of the last time we were here
together and how you looked with the sunlight reflecting off of your
sunglasses. You were always so cool,
just always someone who represented something I was always trying so
desperately to be, but never quite could be.
And that coolness came to you with such ease. And I envied you for it.
You
weren’t sad back then and neither was I.
That was before everything changed, before the hourglass that measured
our happiness was so inconspicuously turned on its head. Back then I could still laugh without the
fear of knowing it would all abruptly end as it all eventually did. I didn’t know then that the sand castle we lived
in would come crumbling down around us. If
I had, maybe I would have had time to save something more than just
myself.
Do
you remember the day you found that sand dollar? And you said if only that were a real dollar
and if only you had a million more of those to give to me, then we could sail
off into the horizon. And we
laughed. But sometimes I think that’s
why you left, because you felt you could not give me everything you felt so
strongly that I wanted and deserved. But
I want you to know that none of that ever mattered to me. It was always them who expected so much of
you while I just liked being beside you, feeling your chest rise and fall as we
fell asleep at night and then slowly roused in the mornings.
Well,
I suppose none of that matters now. It’s
been years since I’ve seen you and ages since anyone has spoken your name to
me. And I wouldn’t know where to begin
looking for you even if I had the nerve.
I just wanted you to know I still have that sand dollar. It’s at the bottom of the drawer beside my
bed. I like knowing that it’s here. I like knowing that a part of us is still here.
And you'll never believe it. After I wrote this I went back into the water for the last time and I found this...
