I stand on the sand as the cool water rushes over my feet and between my painted toes. I stare out from behind shaded eyes into infinity and find that same familiar desire to run; to disappear.
The fiery sun faces me in fierce confrontation and I become aware of all the anger still there inside. Anger that sometimes seems a thing of the past but will whisper to me now and, as I recall, whenever I allow it. Or, when I don’t but have been fighting it for far too long. I wish it away and begin to walk.
With my steps (and even without them), the rolling waves race up and fizz before fading away to a soft shimmer and sparkle on the sand. Pebbles crack. The white ripples will me in. As I walk further, the will becomes a pull; strong and determined and never, never giving up. The cool water feels fresh at first as it envelopes more and more and more of me and, once wet, the warmth begins to work. The rushing waves call out again and again until there is no other sound. And no more steps.
The horizon bends and shifts with strong peaks that appear and disappear as they turn white and rush towards me. Their power forces me to fight to stay afloat. Conscious, well timed jumps at first that still manage to knock me back and send me under despite all of my best efforts. Salty spray splashes my face and my sunglasses suddenly seem cumbersome and redundant. The crash of the waves repeatedly beats out a sound that defeats all others. And then, the rhythm. The gentle bobbing back and forth. I am free.
Without the fight, I kick my legs in the dark depths and the resistance of the water seems to become something I am working with, not against. My limbs are lost within the unknown and I am forced to forget my fears as the enormity of the weight and number and fatal, almost inevitable, implications simply seems too much to bear. I am free.
This moment. And this. And the next…