Status: Just a little something I wrote for the daily prompt :)
Three Years
too long;
It was the first time in three years that I'd seen the ocean.
Three years since I'd heard the sound of the tide washing over the sand. One thousand and ninety five days since I'd smelled the salty sea air. Over one million minutes since I'd felt the gentle caress of the sea's breeze against my cheek.
And far too long since I'd seen his face.
I left him and the ocean behind on January 7, 2010. It was too hard to stay here, with melancholy memories tugging at the strings that barely held my heart together. We used to come to the ocean together, he and I. He knew that it was my favorite place. But without him, the place that once filled my heart with such joy now seemed soul-crushingly empty. So I'd moved further inland and abandoned this place, leaving behind the two things that had once consumed my entire life.
It took three years to gather the courage to come back and face these ghosts alone. And now, standing with the ocean stretching in front of me, the light from the setting sun casting a warm orange glow, the memories came back. Many flashed by so quickly I could barely register them, barely tell them apart, but one in particular stood out. It was one from many years ago, but it was so vivid it left a burn in my chest as I recalled it.
We'd always loved to come to the beach at night, when the sky dripped rhinestones, when everything was quiet, calm, solemn. On that particular night, the two of us stumbled through the sand, drunk on vodka and each other. Laughing, we'd slipped off our shoes and tiptoed into the water, gasping when its frigidness stole the air from our lungs. I remember that he splashed me and it was so cold that I was almost angry, but it all had fled when I saw the playful smile on his face.
A bit later we'd went exploring and found a small cove, its entrance just out of reach of the ocean's icy fingers. It was here that we curled up and slept, tangled together in the sand. We awoke the next morning with the sun, and I'd been ready to leave, wiling to forsake the beach and my precious ocean for a warm shower and our bed. But he'd pouted and begged to stay - just a little while longer! - and I could not say no. His smile never failed to sway me. So while the rest of the world slept, he and I had built a sandcastle on the beach, with a toothpick from his pocket as the makeshift flag.
It wasn't until the sun finally began to peek its head over the horizon that we'd finally decided to leave. We were tired and hungry, and the ocean would always been there. So he'd taken my hand and we slowly made our way across the beach, leaving footprints in the wet sand. Just before we reached the car, he'd stopped behind me, saying that he needed to tie his shoe.
It wasn't until I'd turned around that I remember he hadn't been wearing shoes.
He was on one knee, a small black box in his hands. Inside the box was a ring, one with a gem as blue as the ocean. With a shyness that was uncommon for him, he'd pledged his love for me and asked for my hand in marriage, a request which I could never dream of refusing. I'd felt as if all of my dreams were coming true; I would always have him and piece of the ocean with me at all times.
I stood on the same beach now, alone, with the ring crushed in my hand. When I closed my eyes, I could almost conjure him, kneeling in front of me, sliding the ring onto my finger for the first time. But he wasn't; he was gone, and now too I wanted to get rid of my personal piece of the ocean. I would leave it here, buried under the sand for the ghosts and the memories.
It was the first time in three years that I'd seen the ocean.
Three years since I'd heard the sound of the tide washing over the sand. One thousand and ninety five days since I'd smelled the salty sea air. Over one million minutes since I'd felt the gentle caress of the sea's breeze against my cheek.
And far too long since I'd seen his face.
I left him and the ocean behind on January 7, 2010. It was too hard to stay here, with melancholy memories tugging at the strings that barely held my heart together. We used to come to the ocean together, he and I. He knew that it was my favorite place. But without him, the place that once filled my heart with such joy now seemed soul-crushingly empty. So I'd moved further inland and abandoned this place, leaving behind the two things that had once consumed my entire life.
It took three years to gather the courage to come back and face these ghosts alone. And now, standing with the ocean stretching in front of me, the light from the setting sun casting a warm orange glow, the memories came back. Many flashed by so quickly I could barely register them, barely tell them apart, but one in particular stood out. It was one from many years ago, but it was so vivid it left a burn in my chest as I recalled it.
We'd always loved to come to the beach at night, when the sky dripped rhinestones, when everything was quiet, calm, solemn. On that particular night, the two of us stumbled through the sand, drunk on vodka and each other. Laughing, we'd slipped off our shoes and tiptoed into the water, gasping when its frigidness stole the air from our lungs. I remember that he splashed me and it was so cold that I was almost angry, but it all had fled when I saw the playful smile on his face.
A bit later we'd went exploring and found a small cove, its entrance just out of reach of the ocean's icy fingers. It was here that we curled up and slept, tangled together in the sand. We awoke the next morning with the sun, and I'd been ready to leave, wiling to forsake the beach and my precious ocean for a warm shower and our bed. But he'd pouted and begged to stay - just a little while longer! - and I could not say no. His smile never failed to sway me. So while the rest of the world slept, he and I had built a sandcastle on the beach, with a toothpick from his pocket as the makeshift flag.
It wasn't until the sun finally began to peek its head over the horizon that we'd finally decided to leave. We were tired and hungry, and the ocean would always been there. So he'd taken my hand and we slowly made our way across the beach, leaving footprints in the wet sand. Just before we reached the car, he'd stopped behind me, saying that he needed to tie his shoe.
It wasn't until I'd turned around that I remember he hadn't been wearing shoes.
He was on one knee, a small black box in his hands. Inside the box was a ring, one with a gem as blue as the ocean. With a shyness that was uncommon for him, he'd pledged his love for me and asked for my hand in marriage, a request which I could never dream of refusing. I'd felt as if all of my dreams were coming true; I would always have him and piece of the ocean with me at all times.
I stood on the same beach now, alone, with the ring crushed in my hand. When I closed my eyes, I could almost conjure him, kneeling in front of me, sliding the ring onto my finger for the first time. But he wasn't; he was gone, and now too I wanted to get rid of my personal piece of the ocean. I would leave it here, buried under the sand for the ghosts and the memories.
It was the first time in three years that I'd seen the ocean.
♠ ♠ ♠
For some reason, I enjoy writing thinly-veiled fanfiction.I really don't know how I feel about this.