Mia Livaudais
Ghosts
I lay in bed early that morning, not quite asleep but not quite awake. I heard my phone ring beside me and grabbed it off the end table. The call was from Lilly’s contact, my best friend. I smiled as her contact photo appeared on the screen, a picture of her smiling big with white teeth, one of her hands on her long brown hair that was long gone now. The photo was the last one I had of her before it got a hold of her. Before her long hair fell out, she lost pounds on top of pounds. Her skin lost some of its lively coloring, the sparkle in her eyes dulled, and she became a shell of who she once was, no longer my best friend Lilly but rather a ghost of her.
I picked up the phone and greeted her with the warmest hello I could manage, despite how exhausted I was.
“Cayman, this is Mr. Ocanson, Lilly’s father. I have bad news.” A deep voice spoke from the other side. My heart dropped. I had spent a lot of time with Lilly’s family, and the voice I heard on the other side of the phone was not the warm voice of her bubbly father, but rather the cold, sad voice of someone with an aching heart, someone who is about to share awful news. A lump rose in my throat, but still I managed to squeeze out a few words.
“What happened sir?” I asked quietly. There was silence on the other end of the phone. Mr. Ocanson breathed deeply before speaking again.
“She’s gone, son. She’s gone. It’s been years of fighting, and you know that-”
I stopped listening and quickly hung up. My blood ran cold. My skin turned pale. The crumbling world became blurry through my teary eyes, and it seemed the picture of us on my end table became not a happy and beautiful memento but an image that represented the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. I melted into my bed, grabbing my pillow and sobbing into it. I was never one to often show my emotions, for among my peers one who cries is depicted as not a man but a boy. So, I never cried in front of my friends, I never talked about my feelings, and I never opened up to anyone other than Lilly. But now as my world collapsed before me and my heart shattered like impacted glass, there was no strength to stop the tears from falling. They gushed from my eyes like an uncontrollable river, creating a large wet spot on my white pillow. The crying wasn’t silent either, and my mom tells me that the wailing she heard sounded almost in-human.
My mother burst into my room and ran to my bedside, saying “What happened, Cayman, what’s wrong?!” But rather than answering her questions, I merely cried and cried. I could tell that my mother was afraid for me, for I haven't cried this much ever— not when I failed my high school math exam, not when my childhood dog ran away, not even when I fell and broke my arm at a young age. I truly know how it feels to have your heart broken, to watch everything fall apart. My mother grabbed my face and held me, looking deep into my eyes, wondering what was happening, who had hurt her son so bad. Just then her cell phone rang in her pocket, and I saw it was from Lily's father.
“Answer it, mom,” I whispered between my sobs. They were getting quieter now as I became more exhausted. My throat ached and my eyes were puffy and red. I looked at my pillow, which was soaking wet. How pitiful I must have looked. How had everything slipped out of my hands so quickly? Who was I without Lilly?
My mom left the room and answered the phone. I blocked out the noise of her on the call, because I feared that if I heard Lilly’s father break the news again my heart would not be able to take it. I became lost in my thoughts, and I wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart. The pain was so intense, the worst thing I have ever felt. It occurred to me that I would not see her again, until the day I die as well. Ouch. That hurt. My mother walked back into the room. She looked so sad, so sympathetic.
“Cayman, honey-” before she could finish I burst into tears once again. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could do something, anything, but there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you could have done, there’s nothing any of us could have done,” she said. I understood that, that it wasn’t my fault, or her family’s fault. So I was simply angry at everything and everyone, because this whole thing was the world’s fault. I was so incredibly angry at the world. I looked over and saw the picture of Lily and me on my end table. It was like getting stabbed in the heart for the third time today.
“Mom, I love you and you know that. But I really need some time alone right now,” I said quietly, not making eye contact with her. She nodded and walked out of the room, and I closed my door behind her, then closed the curtains too. The room was dark now. I then walked over to the end table and saw the picture again. The tears began falling once again, only now they were silent. Angrily, I picked it up and threw it into my drawer. I slammed the drawer shut. I was so angry that I couldn’t even bare to look at her face. I lay down on the bed and cried, only now gently and quietly. I was so exhausted that I could no longer cry with the passion that I had a few minutes ago, though the pain was just as intense as before. I remembered how I blew Lily's dad off and I felt bad. He had just suffered the loss of his only daughter and I took out my anger on him simply because he was the one who had to break the news. I texted him quickly and said I was sorry for my actions and for his loss. I told him that I reacted in that way because I was deeply, deeply hurt, that I was not mad at him and that it was no one’s fault. He read it but didn’t respond.
The next few days were tough. I lost track of time. I never left my room except to use the bathroom. I refused even to leave my room to eat. My mom brought me food for each meal but I ate less than half of it. I was severely depressed, at the lowest point I had ever been in my entire life. I had no tears left to cry at this point, so instead I just didn’t cry, laugh, or speak. I was numb; I felt nothing. I slept all the time, but I never dreamt. I truly had become a ghost of who I once was, as if when cancer took my best friend it took a piece of me as well. I did make an appearance at the funeral, but I didn’t do the eulogy or speak at all. I stood at the back of the chapel and said nothing, did nothing, just thought about going back to my room to sleep. Sleeping was the time I could forget, the time I didn’t have to feel the pain. When I woke up, for a split second I wouldn’t realize she was gone yet. Everything was ok for a moment.
Something like 3-4 weeks after Lily’s passing, I heard a knock on the bedroom door. I rolled my eyes, got up, and opened the door, expecting it to be my mom bringing me more food I wouldn’t eat. But instead I saw Lily’s mother standing there. I was shocked.
“Oh! Mrs. Ocanson...I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting-” I started to say, but she interrupted me with a hug.
“Cayman, don’t take this the wrong way...but you look awful. You need to take care of yourself,” she said. I felt embarrassed.
“I know, it's not good. But I just, I have nothing left, y’know,” I said, putting my hands in the pockets of my grey sweatpants awkwardly.
“I’m here for a reason, Cayman. I’m here because you need help. You need to heal,” she said. I didn’t reply.
“Come with me,” she said. I followed her downstairs and out the door. I hadn’t seen the sunlight in so long. It was really bright in my eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness in my room the same way I adjusted to the darkness in my life. We got in her car. “Does my mom know-“ I started to ask but she interrupted me again. “She knows, Cayman. Everything is ok. We’re going to Lily's favorite place. You can’t just forget about her, Cayman. That’s not going to help anything. You need to heal. You need to accept her passing and move on. You need to let her rest. She’d want you to be happy, and you know that,” she said. I was quiet. I knew exactly where we were going, the Littleton beach. It was Lilly’s favorite place in the world. Many a summer day we spent there; with our feet in the sand and our skin in the sun. We hadn’t been in many months, as Lily’s health deteriorated, and with it her will to do the things she loved.
The drive there was miserably nostalgic, for the summer days of our youth felt not as if they were a few months ago but rather decades away. Mrs. Ocanson rolled down the car window and I could smell the familiar scent of salt water. As more and more memories flooded back, my head began to hurt and a tear rolled down my cheek.
She looked over at me and sighed. “ You forgot about this beach, didn’t you?” she said quietly. I nodded slowly. “You’ve forgotten about the good times, just like I feared. Lily was afraid that would happen too. That’s why I’m doing this, you know. Before she passed away, she made me promise I wouldn't let you forget about all the times you enjoyed together. You were friends for 14 years, Cayman! Before she was even sick! You can't let those years go to waste!” she said. Again, I stayed quiet until we parked the car on the sand.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t know if I could even look at this beach again. The sound of the waves, the smell of the salt water, the sun on my skin. It hurt. Mrs. Ocanson got out of the car.
“You can do it, Cayman. Just open your eyes and step out of the car. You can’t hide away in your emotions anymore,” she said. I took a deep breath. I was shaking, but still I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I took off my shoes as I used to do everyday.The sand sunk beneath my feet. I looked up and saw Lily dancing, jumping up and landing into the shallow water with a little splash. Her hair was blowing in the wind and she was smiling brighter than the sun itself was shining. In a split second the tears were falling silently again, dripping into the sand. Mrs. Ocanson said something, but I was too astonished to listen. I didn’t reply, but I heard the car door shut and the noise of her driving away. I sat down on the sand.
I watched Lilly dance and dance, splashing into the water. I could hear her laugh faintly too. I smiled to myself as the good times came back and there was a spark in my soul. Then she sat down in the water. A big wave came and washed her away though, when the wave retracted back to the ocean there was nothing there. I knew it wasn’t really her, just a memory, but still i felt a sharp pang in my heart when the earth washed her away again. I knew one day she would become the sand beneath my feet, the dust that blew in the wind, and the soil beneath all the palm trees. I would someday too, become the earth and the life that i was born from. I realized then that Lilly was not “gone”. Yes her heart stopped beating, and yes she lay ever still beneath the ground. But still she lived on in the hearts of all those who loved her, in the waves that reminded me of her beauty and the sun that reminded me of her smile. Once I realized that she was no longer in pain, no longer suffering, and receiving the eternal peace she deserves, I was healed at last.
Lilly is not gone,
she never will be,
she is not forgotten,
for she lives on in me.
Beach
The walk there is dark, but I am not afraid. For once in my life I ignore my anxieties, forcing my over-thinking brain to let me enjoy one night; have one good care-free night alone. Alone without my own problems and my painful past that chases me, haunts me, every moment it can. I walk down the street. The only people out are the teenagers having fun at the pool, having a rebellious night-swimming party, listening to music. I ignore them and keep walking, passing under the bright halo of a street lamp. Before long I come to the dock. I can hear the waves now, although they are distant. I take off my sandals and leave them on the wooden dock, feeling the worn-down planks and the grains of sand beneath my feet. At last I reach the end of the dock and see the astonishing beach ahead of me. It’s empty now; even the crab-hunters and party-goers are at home, probably asleep. I hear the waves distinctly now, unlike the faded and muffled noises I heard before. I find a comfortable place on the shore and sit on the sand. It is soft beneath me, cool at nighttime unlike the heat I feel during the day. At day time, I would see women sun-basking, men listening to music and drinking, children building sand castles, and old men fishing. But at nighttime the beach is a whole different place. I am alone here, no sounds of music and no children playing. The sounds of the waves seem much louder than before. I watch as the water retracts, raises to form a wave, and finally crashes onto the wet sandy shore. The water is dark and mysterious, the black night sky reflecting onto the crystal clear sea. I look up and see the stars, shining as bright as ever against the darkened sky. Everything is so peaceful. I never want to leave. I Imagine leaving behind all the world’s problems and staying here forever. But its impossible, and I know that. I have to appreciate it here, right now. I get up from the place I’m sitting and walk down to the shoreline. A big wave comes and I feel the cool water on my toes. It feels refreshing. I kneel down and gather some water in my hands, gently splashing it onto my face. I feel not only its refreshing, cool touch but also the faint sting of the salt against my face. A drop gets into my mouth and I taste the history of the ocean; the storms, the waves, the seashells, the huge rocks that were ground up into the soft sand, and the sea creatures that call the ocean home. I can smell the salt water now too. It’s nostalgic really, somehow, although I have never really experienced a beauty like this one. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. It’s like I am looking at our earth in its most raw and vulnerable part, like I am staring at the exposed heart of a person, wielding the power to make it stop beating. I know that we as humans have the power capable of destroying this place, our beautiful planet, and I know we’ve already begun. But still I feel so safe here as the wind blows through my hair, sending a chill down my spine. More waves crash, synchronized with the gusts of wind. A small crab scutters in front of me, leaving behind tiny marks in the white sand as he enters the ocean. A wave comes and pulls him out to sea. He’s on some adventure, I bet, just letting the ocean take him where he’s destined to be. I walk through the wet sand, my own clumsy feet leaving big footprints into Earth’s perfect shore. Each wave that comes washes the steps behind me away. The past is in the past now, the steps ahead are far more important than the ones I’ve already left. The wet squishy sand sticks to the bottom of my feet. The wind begins to blow stronger. I’m cold now, my teeth chattering and goosebumps appearing along my arms and legs. I know its time to go back, but I never want to leave. I sigh and slowly walk back to the dock, savoring the feel of the sand beneath my feet and the smell of salt water that lingers in my nose. Before I go up the steps I turn around and look at the beautiful beach one last time, smell the ocean one last time, admiring the stars one last time. I put my sandals on my feet and walk back to the road, again passing under the streetlights’ halo and walking by the pool. It’s quiet now; even the rambunctious teenagers are home in their beds. As the sound of the waves fades away, I know that I have completely left the beautiful beach behind me. No “beach scented” candle I ever light will smell as beautiful as that salt water. No painting I see or video I watch can compare to the sight of the star-lit sky and the tranquil beach. Every time I wash my hands I will be reminded of the cool feeling of the dark crystal water against my fingertips. I know no matter how far away I go from the beautiful shore, I will still be called out upon the water, wishing to go there one last time. I accept these thoughts and keep walking, resisting the urge to run back. The taste of the night’s ocean and the smell of the salt becomes just a memory now, as the sun rises and I know the water now reflects the sun’s undying light and the pale blue sky above me.
Ghosts
I lay in bed early that morning, not quite asleep but not quite awake. I heard my phone ring beside me and grabbed it off the end table. The call was from Lilly’s contact, my best friend. I smiled as her contact photo appeared on the screen, a picture of her smiling big with white teeth, one of her hands on her long brown hair that was long gone now. The photo was the last one I had of her before it got a hold of her. Before her long hair fell out, she lost pounds on top of pounds. Her skin lost some of its lively coloring, the sparkle in her eyes dulled, and she became a shell of who she once was, no longer my best friend Lilly but rather a ghost of her.
I picked up the phone and greeted her with the warmest hello I could manage, despite how exhausted I was.
“Cayman, this is Mr. Ocanson, Lilly’s father. I have bad news.” A deep voice spoke from the other side. My heart dropped. I had spent a lot of time with Lilly’s family, and the voice I heard on the other side of the phone was not the warm voice of her bubbly father, but rather the cold, sad voice of someone with an aching heart, someone who is about to share awful news. A lump rose in my throat, but still I managed to squeeze out a few words.
“What happened sir?” I asked quietly. There was silence on the other end of the phone. Mr. Ocanson breathed deeply before speaking again.
“She’s gone, son. She’s gone. It’s been years of fighting, and you know that-”
I stopped listening and quickly hung up. My blood ran cold. My skin turned pale. The crumbling world became blurry through my teary eyes, and it seemed the picture of us on my end table became not a happy and beautiful memento but an image that represented the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. I melted into my bed, grabbing my pillow and sobbing into it. I was never one to often show my emotions, for among my peers one who cries is depicted as not a man but a boy. So, I never cried in front of my friends, I never talked about my feelings, and I never opened up to anyone other than Lilly. But now as my world collapsed before me and my heart shattered like impacted glass, there was no strength to stop the tears from falling. They gushed from my eyes like an uncontrollable river, creating a large wet spot on my white pillow. The crying wasn’t silent either, and my mom tells me that the wailing she heard sounded almost in-human.
My mother burst into my room and ran to my bedside, saying “What happened, Cayman, what’s wrong?!” But rather than answering her questions, I merely cried and cried. I could tell that my mother was afraid for me, for I haven't cried this much ever— not when I failed my high school math exam, not when my childhood dog ran away, not even when I fell and broke my arm at a young age. I truly know how it feels to have your heart broken, to watch everything fall apart. My mother grabbed my face and held me, looking deep into my eyes, wondering what was happening, who had hurt her son so bad. Just then her cell phone rang in her pocket, and I saw it was from Lily's father.
“Answer it, mom,” I whispered between my sobs. They were getting quieter now as I became more exhausted. My throat ached and my eyes were puffy and red. I looked at my pillow, which was soaking wet. How pitiful I must have looked. How had everything slipped out of my hands so quickly? Who was I without Lilly?
My mom left the room and answered the phone. I blocked out the noise of her on the call, because I feared that if I heard Lilly’s father break the news again my heart would not be able to take it. I became lost in my thoughts, and I wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart. The pain was so intense, the worst thing I have ever felt. It occurred to me that I would not see her again, until the day I die as well. Ouch. That hurt. My mother walked back into the room. She looked so sad, so sympathetic.
“Cayman, honey-” before she could finish I burst into tears once again. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could do something, anything, but there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you could have done, there’s nothing any of us could have done,” she said. I understood that, that it wasn’t my fault, or her family’s fault. So I was simply angry at everything and everyone, because this whole thing was the world’s fault. I was so incredibly angry at the world. I looked over and saw the picture of Lily and me on my end table. It was like getting stabbed in the heart for the third time today.
“Mom, I love you and you know that. But I really need some time alone right now,” I said quietly, not making eye contact with her. She nodded and walked out of the room, and I closed my door behind her, then closed the curtains too. The room was dark now. I then walked over to the end table and saw the picture again. The tears began falling once again, only now they were silent. Angrily, I picked it up and threw it into my drawer. I slammed the drawer shut. I was so angry that I couldn’t even bare to look at her face. I lay down on the bed and cried, only now gently and quietly. I was so exhausted that I could no longer cry with the passion that I had a few minutes ago, though the pain was just as intense as before. I remembered how I blew Lily's dad off and I felt bad. He had just suffered the loss of his only daughter and I took out my anger on him simply because he was the one who had to break the news. I texted him quickly and said I was sorry for my actions and for his loss. I told him that I reacted in that way because I was deeply, deeply hurt, that I was not mad at him and that it was no one’s fault. He read it but didn’t respond.
The next few days were tough. I lost track of time. I never left my room except to use the bathroom. I refused even to leave my room to eat. My mom brought me food for each meal but I ate less than half of it. I was severely depressed, at the lowest point I had ever been in my entire life. I had no tears left to cry at this point, so instead I just didn’t cry, laugh, or speak. I was numb; I felt nothing. I slept all the time, but I never dreamt. I truly had become a ghost of who I once was, as if when cancer took my best friend it took a piece of me as well. I did make an appearance at the funeral, but I didn’t do the eulogy or speak at all. I stood at the back of the chapel and said nothing, did nothing, just thought about going back to my room to sleep. Sleeping was the time I could forget, the time I didn’t have to feel the pain. When I woke up, for a split second I wouldn’t realize she was gone yet. Everything was ok for a moment.
Something like 3-4 weeks after Lily’s passing, I heard a knock on the bedroom door. I rolled my eyes, got up, and opened the door, expecting it to be my mom bringing me more food I wouldn’t eat. But instead I saw Lily’s mother standing there. I was shocked.
“Oh! Mrs. Ocanson...I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting-” I started to say, but she interrupted me with a hug.
“Cayman, don’t take this the wrong way...but you look awful. You need to take care of yourself,” she said. I felt embarrassed.
“I know, it's not good. But I just, I have nothing left, y’know,” I said, putting my hands in the pockets of my grey sweatpants awkwardly.
“I’m here for a reason, Cayman. I’m here because you need help. You need to heal,” she said. I didn’t reply.
“Come with me,” she said. I followed her downstairs and out the door. I hadn’t seen the sunlight in so long. It was really bright in my eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness in my room the same way I adjusted to the darkness in my life. We got in her car. “Does my mom know-“ I started to ask but she interrupted me again. “She knows, Cayman. Everything is ok. We’re going to Lily's favorite place. You can’t just forget about her, Cayman. That’s not going to help anything. You need to heal. You need to accept her passing and move on. You need to let her rest. She’d want you to be happy, and you know that,” she said. I was quiet. I knew exactly where we were going, the Littleton beach. It was Lilly’s favorite place in the world. Many a summer day we spent there; with our feet in the sand and our skin in the sun. We hadn’t been in many months, as Lily’s health deteriorated, and with it her will to do the things she loved.
The drive there was miserably nostalgic, for the summer days of our youth felt not as if they were a few months ago but rather decades away. Mrs. Ocanson rolled down the car window and I could smell the familiar scent of salt water. As more and more memories flooded back, my head began to hurt and a tear rolled down my cheek.
She looked over at me and sighed. “ You forgot about this beach, didn’t you?” she said quietly. I nodded slowly. “You’ve forgotten about the good times, just like I feared. Lily was afraid that would happen too. That’s why I’m doing this, you know. Before she passed away, she made me promise I wouldn't let you forget about all the times you enjoyed together. You were friends for 14 years, Cayman! Before she was even sick! You can't let those years go to waste!” she said. Again, I stayed quiet until we parked the car on the sand.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t know if I could even look at this beach again. The sound of the waves, the smell of the salt water, the sun on my skin. It hurt. Mrs. Ocanson got out of the car.
“You can do it, Cayman. Just open your eyes and step out of the car. You can’t hide away in your emotions anymore,” she said. I took a deep breath. I was shaking, but still I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I took off my shoes as I used to do everyday.The sand sunk beneath my feet. I looked up and saw Lily dancing, jumping up and landing into the shallow water with a little splash. Her hair was blowing in the wind and she was smiling brighter than the sun itself was shining. In a split second the tears were falling silently again, dripping into the sand. Mrs. Ocanson said something, but I was too astonished to listen. I didn’t reply, but I heard the car door shut and the noise of her driving away. I sat down on the sand.
I watched Lilly dance and dance, splashing into the water. I could hear her laugh faintly too. I smiled to myself as the good times came back and there was a spark in my soul. Then she sat down in the water. A big wave came and washed her away though, when the wave retracted back to the ocean there was nothing there. I knew it wasn’t really her, just a memory, but still i felt a sharp pang in my heart when the earth washed her away again. I knew one day she would become the sand beneath my feet, the dust that blew in the wind, and the soil beneath all the palm trees. I would someday too, become the earth and the life that i was born from. I realized then that Lilly was not “gone”. Yes her heart stopped beating, and yes she lay ever still beneath the ground. But still she lived on in the hearts of all those who loved her, in the waves that reminded me of her beauty and the sun that reminded me of her smile. Once I realized that she was no longer in pain, no longer suffering, and receiving the eternal peace she deserves, I was healed at last.
Lilly is not gone,
she never will be,
she is not forgotten,
for she lives on in me.
Beach
The walk there is dark, but I am not afraid. For once in my life I ignore my anxieties, forcing my over-thinking brain to let me enjoy one night; have one good care-free night alone. Alone without my own problems and my painful past that chases me, haunts me, every moment it can. I walk down the street. The only people out are the teenagers having fun at the pool, having a rebellious night-swimming party, listening to music. I ignore them and keep walking, passing under the bright halo of a street lamp. Before long I come to the dock. I can hear the waves now, although they are distant. I take off my sandals and leave them on the wooden dock, feeling the worn-down planks and the grains of sand beneath my feet. At last I reach the end of the dock and see the astonishing beach ahead of me. It’s empty now; even the crab-hunters and party-goers are at home, probably asleep. I hear the waves distinctly now, unlike the faded and muffled noises I heard before. I find a comfortable place on the shore and sit on the sand. It is soft beneath me, cool at nighttime unlike the heat I feel during the day. At day time, I would see women sun-basking, men listening to music and drinking, children building sand castles, and old men fishing. But at nighttime the beach is a whole different place. I am alone here, no sounds of music and no children playing. The sounds of the waves seem much louder than before. I watch as the water retracts, raises to form a wave, and finally crashes onto the wet sandy shore. The water is dark and mysterious, the black night sky reflecting onto the crystal clear sea. I look up and see the stars, shining as bright as ever against the darkened sky. Everything is so peaceful. I never want to leave. I Imagine leaving behind all the world’s problems and staying here forever. But its impossible, and I know that. I have to appreciate it here, right now. I get up from the place I’m sitting and walk down to the shoreline. A big wave comes and I feel the cool water on my toes. It feels refreshing. I kneel down and gather some water in my hands, gently splashing it onto my face. I feel not only its refreshing, cool touch but also the faint sting of the salt against my face. A drop gets into my mouth and I taste the history of the ocean; the storms, the waves, the seashells, the huge rocks that were ground up into the soft sand, and the sea creatures that call the ocean home. I can smell the salt water now too. It’s nostalgic really, somehow, although I have never really experienced a beauty like this one. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. It’s like I am looking at our earth in its most raw and vulnerable part, like I am staring at the exposed heart of a person, wielding the power to make it stop beating. I know that we as humans have the power capable of destroying this place, our beautiful planet, and I know we’ve already begun. But still I feel so safe here as the wind blows through my hair, sending a chill down my spine. More waves crash, synchronized with the gusts of wind. A small crab scutters in front of me, leaving behind tiny marks in the white sand as he enters the ocean. A wave comes and pulls him out to sea. He’s on some adventure, I bet, just letting the ocean take him where he’s destined to be. I walk through the wet sand, my own clumsy feet leaving big footprints into Earth’s perfect shore. Each wave that comes washes the steps behind me away. The past is in the past now, the steps ahead are far more important than the ones I’ve already left. The wet squishy sand sticks to the bottom of my feet. The wind begins to blow stronger. I’m cold now, my teeth chattering and goosebumps appearing along my arms and legs. I know its time to go back, but I never want to leave. I sigh and slowly walk back to the dock, savoring the feel of the sand beneath my feet and the smell of salt water that lingers in my nose. Before I go up the steps I turn around and look at the beautiful beach one last time, smell the ocean one last time, admiring the stars one last time. I put my sandals on my feet and walk back to the road, again passing under the streetlights’ halo and walking by the pool. It’s quiet now; even the rambunctious teenagers are home in their beds. As the sound of the waves fades away, I know that I have completely left the beautiful beach behind me. No “beach scented” candle I ever light will smell as beautiful as that salt water. No painting I see or video I watch can compare to the sight of the star-lit sky and the tranquil beach. Every time I wash my hands I will be reminded of the cool feeling of the dark crystal water against my fingertips. I know no matter how far away I go from the beautiful shore, I will still be called out upon the water, wishing to go there one last time. I accept these thoughts and keep walking, resisting the urge to run back. The taste of the night’s ocean and the smell of the salt becomes just a memory now, as the sun rises and I know the water now reflects the sun’s undying light and the pale blue sky above me.