The House on the Beach

 

The salty breezes filter through open windows and steal away into the darkness of a lifeless existence, bringing with it a breath of vigor that breathes a sense of being into the night air.  In the stillness, the roaring of the waves creates a rhythmic song paraded by a procession of stars, one by one contributing to the feeling of completeness that one senses in the air.  Taking in this sensation, I open my sleepless eyes and bring myself to leave the lonely bed and begin the silent walk to the doors overlooking the beach.  I look out and feel the boundary that separates me from the rest of the world.  It almost seems as if those doors represent a barrier that must be overcome in order to open oneself to the sea of emotions that lay outside.  With noiseless footsteps, I move closer and breathe in the air – and alone in my thoughts I move to the door and turn the lock.  With a resounding snap, it clicks open. 

 

I push open the doors with a burdened heart and gingerly step outside.  I feel the gritty grains of sand under my feet, almost as if telling me that the road upon which I walk is not smooth, a somewhat idealistic thought I harbor within the comforts of my adobe.  I slowly move forward and feel something awakening inside as the magic of the night permeates my soul.  Those doors that had long been shut open to the rhythm of the music of the sea and I feel my heart beginning to take on a new beat amidst the salty airs.  Hesitant footsteps carry me on, and with each passing moment, gain an innate strength of their own.  The grains of sand sift underneath my feet, sinking a bit in the soft layers of the earth. 

 

I look ahead and marvel at the vastness of the waters ahead, reaching beyond any point upon which the eyes can focus.  In my reverie of wonder, I forget that the walk upon which I have embarked carries with it dangers, and I break free from my thoughts as a jagged piece of shell pierces the heel of my foot.  Dumbfounded, I look down and see the pool of blood forming in the otherwise pure sand.  The pain brings tears to my eyes and unbeknown to me begin to stream down my face.  I quickly pluck out the shell, not wanting to prolong the pain and hurry to the edge of the water and sink to the ground as my feet become immersed into the water.  The pain of the salt against the broken skin creates a steady stream of tears that fall to the water and become one with the sea. 

 

The pain slowly subsiding, I bring my knees to my chin and rest my once again weary face with the only strength that remains inside.  I look out into the water and take in the ethereal moonlight bouncing off of the waters, which in their unrest, bring a sense of calm to my being.  I reflect upon my solitude and become lost in the moment of awakening.  I see the moon off on the horizon, as if laying itself to rest in the arms of the water – peaceful and serene with each other for comfort.  I realize at this moment the extent of my loneliness and feel those subdued fires awakening in my heart that I tried so hard to subdue.  I wonder to myself – if I were to one day walk away into these dense waters and never return, would I be missed?  How many of those with whom I come across in life will actually feel a loss at my absence? 

 

I always saw myself as unique and felt that I had something valuable to offer to those around me, but there comes a point in life where one despairs and feels as if there is nothing more to give away.  Is this really the end?  Where does the strength come to keep moving when there is nothing more than an empty heart and soul?  But, it is never truly empty – there are all those memories to hold on to, even those without choice for there are some thoughts from the past that one would indeed not miss if never seen again.  These are the thoughts that form the bulk of the burden that will never allow me to be free or empty.

 

However, one should never be empty.  Each individual has something to offer in some way or another.  Just like all the sights and sounds of nature – together they are in harmony forming a complete rhythm, which even in discord, exists as a quintessential beauty. 

 

There is a thicket of trees that lines the shore at one end.  By no means a forest but a small dense grove of trees as out of place on this beach as am I.  I remember one evening I went out for a run and ended up at the trees when I finished.  The sun had just set and the moon was beginning to take over the skies.  Night was dawning upon the world but there was still a glow in the sky as if a lingering memory of the radiance that it once enjoyed.  I remember slowing down, and just like every other night, I began to catch my breath whilst walking along the edge of the grove.  It was the same beach, the same waters, the same trees – how often I had walked these paths and how familiar they were to me, but that night I saw it all with eyes anew.  I looked into the trees and saw all the twinkling lights of its tiny inhabitants and was once again reminded of the awesome power of nature.  The darkness of the trees bordered by the faint glows of the skies made it seem almost as if the trees were on fire.  Constant sparks of light that came and went in the blink of an eye. 

 

Taking this all in, I began to feel something stir inside of me.  For the first time, I felt that this was too much for me – I wanted to share this moment with someone else because there was something lacking in all of this.  Yet, there was no one there, and still, as today I sit before the waters pondering these thoughts, I am still alone.  But life goes on, the waters still churn and caress the shores – the skies continue in their daily cycle of change – and the winds still bring their tidings of hope time and again.

 

I remember another evening I had sat outside to try to grasp some of the vigor of the night air.  Feeling a bit adventurous I had brought a cookbook out with me to try to find something to make the next day.  It was funny but I loved to bake and cook yet seldom actually partook in the actual consumption of food.  I think it was the generous side of me that brought this about.  I’d much rather give another the pleasure of something that was prepared from my two hands as opposed to the hollow joy that I could give solely to myself. 

 

It was a night very much like this except there was an unusual sense of calm that pervaded the senses.  A large storm had passed by earlier showering torrents of rain upon the thirsty earth.  Now, as the clouds broke away and moved off, they left behind the sweet smell of rain that brings a sense of renewal and rebirth.  Lost in these musty scents I turned the pages of the heavy book and come to a page that did not turn like the others.  I look closely and see something embedded behind it.  I turn another page and before my eyes I see a red rose.  What once was the epitome of fragrance was now a faint reminder of what had come to pass.  I carefully pick up the rose I had so fondly tried to preserve and turn it around in my hands.  I remember exactly where the rose had come from – it was from the wedding of a close friend; the mother of the groom had very lovingly pinned it to my shirt – a symbol of my role in the happiness associated with the joyous union.

 

I think back to that particular day and remember the slight sadness that overlaid the proceedings of the day.  As happy as I was, there was still that empty feeling inside that reminded me of the fact that the very joy being celebrated yet eluded me.  It left a slight sinking feeling in the bottom of my heart.  There was a time in life when I had a very definite road map in mind and patiently waited for each event to unfold.  Then, as time passed, I realized just how idealistic my thinking was, because life does not travel a straight path.  Some times one ends up traveling meandering paths and eventually end up at the desired destination.  At other times, those very paths can take one to a new destination, but still a happy ending to a long journey.  Yet, there are still those individuals who deviate and get lost some where along the way.

 

Standing there, in the midst of all the vibrant colors – the luxurious silks and embroideries – gleaming golden adornments and jewels – the music – the colorful sweets – the laughter – the dancing – the jokes – the glad tidings…I realized that indeed among all these people I was still very much alone.  There was something inside of me that could not allow me to fully partake in the celebration, and further, the dismal thought that it may still be a long while before I could call that same happiness my own.  And buried even deeper inside, the thought that perhaps the happiness was not meant for me.  In this way, I was very much the lost soul without any particular destination in mind.

 

There is always the hope inside, and as I sat there gazing at the flower, I turn it over once again and return it to its place in the book.  Perhaps those dreams of mine were just those, dreams.  Maybe one day I will come across those dreams in much the same way as I came across this flower in the book. 

 

It was a very bitter-sweet emotion, and even with the passage of time, the same emotions flared up inside as a reminder to the reality that besieged me.  I look back to the waters before me and clear away the hair that the wind had swept before my face, as if clearing away the fog that had clouded my thoughts for the good portion of the night.  It was unlike me to be awake and fully alert at such an hour.  I remember the last time I had felt such peace with the night sky.  I had gone to a drive-in movie theater out in the country.  The movies played away into the early morning hours.  I remember it being the dead of summer – a welcome retreat from the sultry airs that invaded the days.  As the night passed I remember feeling the dew on my skin and hair and subsequently pulling a blanket close to escape the elements.  I stared off into the sky and in the scope of my vision, I saw a shooting star. 

 

I thought back to the childish myth about wishing on a shooting star.  Foolish as it was, I closed my eyes and made a wish for a life completeness and happiness.  I opened my eyes and in just a few moments, I saw another shooting star.  Over the course of the night I lost count of how many I saw.  Thinking back on it now, I realized that it was moments such as those that bring an inkling of hope to a downtrodden soul.  There were no words to describe the feelings, only God alone knew what lay in my heart, and the portrayal of such magic could only be the depiction of a higher power.  It is said that the mercies and bounties of God can never be accounted for – even if all the trees in the world were pens and all the waters the ink.  Somewhere deep inside I hold on to the faith that all will be well.  I have often times given advice to others in that one should always have hope and faith because otherwise there is nothing to strive toward.  It is such a simple thought yet such a difficult one to adhere to.    

 

I see a faint glow beginning to break over the horizons.  Even the moon and stars, which are ever so willing to keep watch over a world sleeping soundly must lay down and rest as well.  I have always seen the birth of a new day as a very special moment since light enters the world after being consumed by darkness.  Day after day this rebirth has continued giving me hope only to dissolve into the oblivions of night at the end of the day.  I think back to my words of wisdom and realize that I must apply them to my life in order to move forward. 

 

With a heart just as heavy as before, I raise myself up and begin the slow trek back to the house.  The pain that had subsided whilst I was sitting flares up again with every shaky footstep.  More than ever I wish for a steadying hand to help me along the way, but alas, there is none.  With eyes brimming with tears I open the door and close it behind me as I step inside.  The journey of the night that had taken me back to distant times had come to an end and I could once again rest my weary soul.  I make my way to the bed and sink into the softness.  Groping in the still dim light I find the glass of water I always keep at the side of my bed.  Gulping down a mouthful, I lay back and close my eyes, waiting for sleep to come and keep me company.