When I See Him by the Seashore
When I See Him by the Seashore
The sun shining overhead was slowly sinking into the Earth's surface. Every summer, each evening, the same actions were repeated by the same boy.
He was always thinking over his life as he watched the thin pebbles slide out of his hand, neatly gliding over the gently flowing liquid. The times when he was five and he would run away, pretending he was invisible underneath of the wooden picnic table. They would eventually find him.
In middle school, the times when his friends and he would fight about who could stuff the most marshmallows in his mouth. They would spend the entire lunch period filling their cheeks with a bag of marshmallows.
When he met one of the most beautiful girls: a hazel-eyed brunette with a compassionate smile. She had stolen his breathe away with a simple glance. He wrote to her, hiding a new note in her locker each day. Just to see her smile, his heart would ache.
When he had finally worked up enough courage to ask her out, she had willingly complied by giving him a weak, enveloping hug that only a woman could give. Every single time, her simple smile made his heart race more than a mile a minute, her chiming laughter sent him longing to hear her voice echo inside his ears again, and her presence caressed him into a blissful peace he had never known of before.
When he came over to her house one evening and her father said she was seeing another. Over night, he had gone from carefree and cheerful to silent and expressionless.
The kind current soothed his anxieties. He felt most calm there ever since that night from long ago. His life was joyous until she left him. He had moved on, or, at least, that was what he told himself. He could fake a smile in the hallway, crack a joke, and act genuinely surprised, but at the end of the day, he would still feel dead inside.
The ocean, his security blanket, would keep him company when he needed it. He could bathe in it, wash all of his worries away. He could practice long laps, letting his mind drift along with the breeze.
He didn't realize it, but while he was still healing his torn heart, he was finding a new love in the sea.
It's funny how what makes us the happiest makes us the saddest, but it's all towards something bigger. I guess I'll always see that curly blonde throwing rocks into the ocean.
He was always thinking over his life as he watched the thin pebbles slide out of his hand, neatly gliding over the gently flowing liquid. The times when he was five and he would run away, pretending he was invisible underneath of the wooden picnic table. They would eventually find him.
In middle school, the times when his friends and he would fight about who could stuff the most marshmallows in his mouth. They would spend the entire lunch period filling their cheeks with a bag of marshmallows.
When he met one of the most beautiful girls: a hazel-eyed brunette with a compassionate smile. She had stolen his breathe away with a simple glance. He wrote to her, hiding a new note in her locker each day. Just to see her smile, his heart would ache.
When he had finally worked up enough courage to ask her out, she had willingly complied by giving him a weak, enveloping hug that only a woman could give. Every single time, her simple smile made his heart race more than a mile a minute, her chiming laughter sent him longing to hear her voice echo inside his ears again, and her presence caressed him into a blissful peace he had never known of before.
When he came over to her house one evening and her father said she was seeing another. Over night, he had gone from carefree and cheerful to silent and expressionless.
The kind current soothed his anxieties. He felt most calm there ever since that night from long ago. His life was joyous until she left him. He had moved on, or, at least, that was what he told himself. He could fake a smile in the hallway, crack a joke, and act genuinely surprised, but at the end of the day, he would still feel dead inside.
The ocean, his security blanket, would keep him company when he needed it. He could bathe in it, wash all of his worries away. He could practice long laps, letting his mind drift along with the breeze.
He didn't realize it, but while he was still healing his torn heart, he was finding a new love in the sea.
It's funny how what makes us the happiest makes us the saddest, but it's all towards something bigger. I guess I'll always see that curly blonde throwing rocks into the ocean.