I sit and stare over the ocean waves as they crash and extended over the small rocks of the beach to the huge piles of driftwood right in front of me. Breathing in the salty air I sigh. This image doesn’t do what it once had. The tangles of tree roots spreading skyward, long and beaten trunks stripped of their bark. Once a peaceful calming image; now was cold and harsh and violent.
As the wave recedes I slip down from the tree I am perched on. Brushing my long hair behind my ears I stuff my hands in my pockets my fingers brushing a folded piece of paper. Automatically I yank my hand back out of the pocket and let it fall to my side. I walk back farther into the driftwood as another wave roars against the beach. I maneuver over the washed up branches and trees as I walk. I try to only focus on the sound of the rushing water, or the whistling wind. But the images are too vivid.
He had said we would be together. We could be happy, despite what others said. He told me I could wear a white dress, my hair in twisted knots. He would wear a matching tuxedo. He said we could come back here. Letting nature tell our story.
His black hair would swirl around his pale face as he ran down the beach, his pale eyes wide and sparkling, his coat open and catching in the wind. Cutting abruptly back to the water I fight her image back again. I climb atop a large piece of wood, half buried in sand and beaten white from the waves. Looking down at my feet I examine the wood. It is exactly where we had stood nearly a year ago. I remember the knot he had said looked like a sun stretching out, spreading light to everyone.
Smiling lightly at the memory I look back up at the water, thick foamy waves keep coming, washing and receding. The water’s surface reflects the sky above; confused, dark, and lonely. Maybe that’s how the sky feels. There aren’t any birds above fighting the harsh wind; the clouds keep the blue sky from exposing itself, leaving the blue haven locked away. That’s how I feel. Locked away. Trapped.
So here I stand. Where it all began. Reaching into my pocket I pull out the picture. His smile is as I remember it, his hair untamable in the breeze, pale eyes as the sky above. Slowly I tear the picture in half, again and again until I can’t anymore. Slowly I open my hands and the little pieces flutter away, just like him. Disappearing to a point where he would never return.