Fiction: A Stroll through the Beach

I’ve always liked the beach. The cold, rushing wind, the crashing of the waves, the children running out and about with their parents frantically yelling after them. Tis’ a place of joy, of separating one’s self from the mundanities of our daily lives. What is there to hate in lying on warm sands with a Pina Colada in your hands? I can’t say that I have a worthwhile answer for that question.

And it was a beautiful day. The sun radiating its cozy light, exquisitely veiled by the soothing, white clouds. I sat at the precipice of the water, gazing at the bursting bubbles, listening to the melodies of mother nature’s creation. Now and then, barely perceptible crustaceans and sea shells would join me. The latter would stay until its home dragged it back. Whilst the crabs and their cousins would find spots to burrow in, longing to bask in this perfection for a just a while longer.

I laid down, hands pillowing my head. What a blue, blue sky it was. I could gawk at it endlessly, without the sun forcing my eyes shut. A flock of seagulls passed by, heading towards the waters. They swooped in, grabbing whatever they were lucky enough to find. Then they’d ride the winds once more, perhaps to gulp the prey they had so expertly caught, or to divvy up the bounty with their many children.

Sightseeing is always nice, isn’t it? Taking in all the world around you has to offer, without lifting even a finger. You sit, you lie down, you prop yourself on the soft mass of gold, or one of those fancy-schmancy tanning beds, and voila you’re done. And perhaps you’d fancy a drink or two—something as mild as a beer, as refreshing as a Sex on the Beach, as unwinding as a Jamesons’. Whatever your personal taste might be, with those tiny additions you could have the perfect day—what a peculiar method, with its ease, to be perfectly content with whatever the universe has handed you. What a way to grab onto that elusive bravery you oh so need.

Now the sun’s coming down. The sea, as far as I could see it, glowed the color of fire. Liquid flames jostled with one another, pushing, pulling, waiting. It’s beautiful. Really.

I entered it. The lips of the water. So warm, so calming. It beckoned me to come closer and closer, and I listened. My feet planted themselves firmly in the wet sands. An odd mixture of smoothness, coarseness, muddiness, stuck in coalescence; muddling the tips of my two feet.

I should know this feeling, yet today is not a time of familiarity. This day, all is to be unfamiliar.

Today the ocean will do what cannot be done without love. Honest, sincere, everlasting love.

Are they shivering? No. They’re trembling. My legs are shaking in the warmest waters I’ve ever met. i couldn’t help but laugh. How long has this body known the touch of water? How many hours, days, months, years, has it spent embraced by the sea? Our sea.

And now it is afraid? That won’t do. Its fear is misplaced. No, this is not the time to scream. This, this is when we will have what we have asked for. What we have demanded the God to grant us from the time we learned to walk. What we have scrounged after, plead, begged for. Now, we will finish that which we have far too long yearned to do. A task unbearable to even consider until today. Until the sea offered me—offered us—her graceful hands.

My legs moved, finally. They understood what I had been saying. Now they obeyed. Now they agreed.

Deeper and deeper I went. The warmth gushing over me, the calling of a new home reaching out to all my senses. Through my ears I heard its voice. In my lips I tasted its promise. From my limbs I felt its bottomless want of me. Home!

Home. The sea will bring me home. It’ll take me, to where I have to be.

Where I should have been, all those years ago.

Ah! Its caress, its touch, its hands. How strong they pulled, how powerful their might truly are. How much this long lost home must want me.

But my legs, my arms, still they resist. They flail, seeking for what I cannot know. Coral? Floating branches? Some random boat? They won’t find any here. They’ll see failure and nothing more.

Good.

I watched them struggle. What do they even hope for? They can’t do anything. Not anymore. Why not relax? Wait? Home is looking forward to our arrival. Home will come to us, and we to it. Why try to run from where we unquestionably belong? Such foolishness.

Such an odd, odd reaction to the coming of an eternal tranquility.

Close, my eyes, close. Let your brothers do what they wish. We’re going home.

At last. At last we need no more be pricked by the barbs and nails of the lands above the waters. It’ll be us, and the endless blue of mother nature from now on. An end to that era; times which have presented to us nothing but pain. No more. Not a single moment more.

Today, we are presented serenity.