Friday, February 22, 2013

Coming Home

She stands at the ocean's edge. Her eyes closed, listening to the waves pound the beach sand. It is her siren's call. Her muse. It is her youth calling to her; urging her back home.

But only in her mind's eye.

She finally opens her eyes and gazes to the left and then to the right. She's heard people say how small they feel when they stand here. The vastness of the blue-green water. Not her. She feels a part of it.

She smiles and breathes in deeply. She feels its strength as the ocean touches her toes, tickles her. It's as if it is playing with her, inviting her, recognizing her. She feels its love as it rolls back into itself, leaving white foam in its wake.

Summers that have come and gone pass through her mind like the wind making her hair dance. It is why she comes here. To remember for only a moment. She is no longer young and her memory is ebbing away like the grains of sand on the beach.

However, the ocean will always call her. The ocean will always remember her name.

1 comment:

Dawn H said...

I can't imagine who you're talking about, but that is one lucky lady to be called and loved by the ocean. ;) Wonderfully written, ma'am. It gave me goosebumps.