how do we remember to remember?
Sometimes in those little hours I think about the horizon.
It wasn't twilight yet when I meandered down to the ocean. I'd still barely been able to make myself go down there after noon most days; but today was a good day, and I thought it might be time to test my limits. The sand had cooled a little from the day's heat, and I wanted to feel it beneath my bare feet. I still couldn't walk far without shoes, though, so I kept my sandals for the time being, setting my sights on the big rock further down the beach. I started toward it, slow as always, my hand in my pocket as I watched the sun start to go down.
I'd been walking for ten minutes when I saw the first one. The wave practically threw it at me; I was only a few feet from the shore by then, and I saw it tossed around by the surf as it spilled toward me. Perfectly ordinary, that spot of yellow-green, impossible to miss.
Nothing else on earth is the same color as a tennis ball.
Another wave crested and it veered toward me; I couldn't help it, I dragged my head up and forced myself to stop looking, the fear I'd successfully repressed until now suddenly churning in my gut. But that, of course, was when I saw the next bright spot of color, and the next, and the next. By then there were dozens of them, hundreds, bobbing and swirling through waves that clawed at the shore, receding and returning.
"The end of the game," I murmured, barely changing my stance as I turned to look out at the yellow-carpeted ocean. The tide was coming in, and soon it was frothing around my ankles. Something bumped my foot and I looked down, dully unsurprised at what-- at who-- was looking back up at me. I reached down, clumsy and unbalanced, more scared of falling than I wanted to admit, and lifted her from the water. Vivid hair, black eyes, mouth red as sin. Reba, my other girlfriend from my other life.
Ouuuu, you nasty man! I could still hear her in my mind.
"You've been waiting here all this time," I said, barely above a whisper. I had no idea why, then of all times, but my eyes blurred with tears and I felt my hand fisting hard in the soft cloth of her body.
I was so overwhelmed that I didn't hear her until she was practically behind me. "...Dad?" The uncertainty in her voice gripped my heart, and I turned around, knowing my brave face was anything but.
It wasn't twilight yet when I meandered down to the ocean. I'd still barely been able to make myself go down there after noon most days; but today was a good day, and I thought it might be time to test my limits. The sand had cooled a little from the day's heat, and I wanted to feel it beneath my bare feet. I still couldn't walk far without shoes, though, so I kept my sandals for the time being, setting my sights on the big rock further down the beach. I started toward it, slow as always, my hand in my pocket as I watched the sun start to go down.
I'd been walking for ten minutes when I saw the first one. The wave practically threw it at me; I was only a few feet from the shore by then, and I saw it tossed around by the surf as it spilled toward me. Perfectly ordinary, that spot of yellow-green, impossible to miss.
Nothing else on earth is the same color as a tennis ball.
Another wave crested and it veered toward me; I couldn't help it, I dragged my head up and forced myself to stop looking, the fear I'd successfully repressed until now suddenly churning in my gut. But that, of course, was when I saw the next bright spot of color, and the next, and the next. By then there were dozens of them, hundreds, bobbing and swirling through waves that clawed at the shore, receding and returning.
"The end of the game," I murmured, barely changing my stance as I turned to look out at the yellow-carpeted ocean. The tide was coming in, and soon it was frothing around my ankles. Something bumped my foot and I looked down, dully unsurprised at what-- at who-- was looking back up at me. I reached down, clumsy and unbalanced, more scared of falling than I wanted to admit, and lifted her from the water. Vivid hair, black eyes, mouth red as sin. Reba, my other girlfriend from my other life.
Ouuuu, you nasty man! I could still hear her in my mind.
"You've been waiting here all this time," I said, barely above a whisper. I had no idea why, then of all times, but my eyes blurred with tears and I felt my hand fisting hard in the soft cloth of her body.
I was so overwhelmed that I didn't hear her until she was practically behind me. "...Dad?" The uncertainty in her voice gripped my heart, and I turned around, knowing my brave face was anything but.