Standing on the Shore

Creeping slowly along the white sandy shore I glance down at my feet encased in multiple layers of tiny bits of pearlized shell and fine grains of sand. Sinking into the wetness I leave tracks that disappear behind me, my past gone, my future steps away. The surf, the relentless endless crashing waves of pure energy, flowing in and out as if they are measured breaths. I am in my own personal heaven, my retreat from life’s craziness and my personal demonic cancerous cells that are causing my life to ebb away. Glancing out to the sun dappled horizon I glimpse my boat home bobbing gently, swaying to the beat of the gentle offshore breeze.

A long shadow swiftly moves into my peripheral line of vision and an older man, with curly silver locks brushing the collar of his sweat rimmed blue shirt stops and stares. ” Claire Marshall,” he says and he laughs as a deep bellyful of regurgitated air spews into the air and he continues chuckling “I knew it, I knew it,” he repeats in an amazed tone of voice. I desperately want to continue in my reverie of reflective time but feel compelled to face him and gasp in instant recognition at his rough hewn wrinkled grey stubbled face. I have never forgotten those piercing blue smiling eyes and crinkled lines around a mouth always turned upwards in heartfelt warmth.

There is that freak moment of utter silence. Our combined memories seem to be adrift on the air between us, I reach out as if to grasp them and Jack pulls me into his arms. I inhale his sweat and taste the crusted salty cotton as I’m crushed into his shoulder. My brittle bones quiver, I lose my balance and slump into his strength. Love is the answer, everything else is inconsequential. I have been lost and now I’m found.

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