 |
| photo |
You know what'd be nice right now? To be sitting at the beach, feet in the sand and listening to the calming ocean waves riding down the shore. I was a big fan of beaches when I was younger and my family used to go to ones every so often when we went back to mum's hometown. I used to love sitting by the shoreline; not too close that the waves would hit me right in the face and have sea water shoot up my nose, but not too far that the cold, salty water couldn't brush against me. I remember squealing and shouting when the water would sometimes get hold of me and dragged me a little closer into its arms. Lovely, but no thank you. I'm afraid of the ocean as much as I admire it. The vast mass of water and the deep dark secrets of what lies in and beneath it scares me. It's the uncertainty that's unsettling.
Yet, it's beauty draws man closer to nature. The beaches to me were once a playground. It was somewhere I could just let my little self go and roll around in the sand without worries. Not as if little me had any worries yet though. It was where my imagination ran wild and free from becoming an architect and building massive sandcastles with its deep moat, to becoming a shape shifter with the help of the sand piled upon my body. The thing I wanted to become the most was a mermaid.
To the little curly haired girl I was back then, a mermaid was one of the most magical creatures, towering over fairies and nymphs. They were majestic from the top of their long silky hair, crowned with a tiara made from coral pieces and shells, to the tip of their shimmering and iridescent tails. In my mind, they were princesses that lived huge underwater castles, The Little Mermaid influenced of course. As I got older, I watched Pirates of The Caribbean and Harry Potter, then realized mermaids were made much scarier. Their skins pale and their hair long and dark flew behind them as they swam right past you. They wanted to lure and capture you into the water with them to where they'll bring you down to the bottom of the sea. Something far darker than Ariel's story.
I owe the beach to having met my husband. At 82, we are still taking simple strolls down the rocky path towards the beach. Though our legs tired and worn, and unable to chase and race each other down to the rocks, it still feels as special as it was back in the days. The more the years pass, the more I realize how wonderful life is. Its ups and downs didn't hold us back. When I felt as if I lost it all at 16, I was met with a contrasting good part of my life that came in the form of another person.
During those rough times, I spent my days at outside, barely wanting to come home. I was freckled from my forehead to my chin, and my skin bronzed from the sunshine. Being outside used to be my little piece of paradise. There was no one to hurt me and no sadness to be felt. Everyone around me gave off a positive energy and that's what I gave back. Nobody knew the things I went through and that was how I liked it. I didn't like to be a burden.
On one hot summer day in July, I headed off to sit by the huge rocks, wanting to dangle my legs in the cold water. The warm breeze blew my hair and tangled it even more than it already was. This was my favourite spot. The rocks layered on each other and fit like a puzzle. Sitting up on it, I had a bird's eye view of the entire beach. I watched children play in the sand and reminisced about the days when I did, then I watched horses galloping by the shore, guided by its master. Sometimes, a passerby would walk past and I'd yell and wave to them from above, slightly making them jump. These were the days I missed the most at my current age; the ability to climb and wander off to places without having everyone thinking, "Look at that old woman..". I guess I shouldn't care what they all think but oh well, my legs aren't up for a climb either so we'll just let that slide.
It was my 16th birthday, that day I was talking about. I spent the whole morning with my family, singing birthday songs and ripping open presents with a huge and heartfelt appreciation for them having actually bought me things. After the excitement simmered down, I crept off by myself to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Up on those rocks I sat for around an hour or so, doodling on its rough surface with a chalk I kept in one of my pockets. Silence and serenity filled the air. That is until a shout of my name came from behind me. I spoke too soon.
Climbing up the rock was a four eyed, freckled and apparently shirtless figure of a teenage boy. He had olive skin and his dark curly brown hair sat in place under his cap. That day, I didn't know nothing more than his name; Frances. Fast forward 66 years and I still see him as the same young man he was. Today, his curly brown hair is only barely there, sitting as white as snow on the top of his balding head. His freckles still shone through the wrinkles of his cheeks and eyes. The only thing that changed was with me. Today, I know him more than anyone else does.
Our love story was short and sweet. Back then, the quicker you got married, the better it was. We spent 5 years of our lives together, struggling through teenage life that was coming to its end. At 21, we got married. Our wedding was held on our local beach and although at first resented by my mother, she finally gave in after I agreed to make the function at least a little more formal than I had wanted initially. I could've gotten married in summer dress for all I cared. The sun shone on the deep blue water, making the waves glisten even more in our eyes but neither the waves, the sun nor the sand under my feet could make me any happier than having the man I loved in front of me.
To the little curly haired girl I was back then, a mermaid was one of the most magical creatures, towering over fairies and nymphs. They were majestic from the top of their long silky hair, crowned with a tiara made from coral pieces and shells, to the tip of their shimmering and iridescent tails. In my mind, they were princesses that lived huge underwater castles, The Little Mermaid influenced of course. As I got older, I watched Pirates of The Caribbean and Harry Potter, then realized mermaids were made much scarier. Their skins pale and their hair long and dark flew behind them as they swam right past you. They wanted to lure and capture you into the water with them to where they'll bring you down to the bottom of the sea. Something far darker than Ariel's story.
I owe the beach to having met my husband. At 82, we are still taking simple strolls down the rocky path towards the beach. Though our legs tired and worn, and unable to chase and race each other down to the rocks, it still feels as special as it was back in the days. The more the years pass, the more I realize how wonderful life is. Its ups and downs didn't hold us back. When I felt as if I lost it all at 16, I was met with a contrasting good part of my life that came in the form of another person.
During those rough times, I spent my days at outside, barely wanting to come home. I was freckled from my forehead to my chin, and my skin bronzed from the sunshine. Being outside used to be my little piece of paradise. There was no one to hurt me and no sadness to be felt. Everyone around me gave off a positive energy and that's what I gave back. Nobody knew the things I went through and that was how I liked it. I didn't like to be a burden.
On one hot summer day in July, I headed off to sit by the huge rocks, wanting to dangle my legs in the cold water. The warm breeze blew my hair and tangled it even more than it already was. This was my favourite spot. The rocks layered on each other and fit like a puzzle. Sitting up on it, I had a bird's eye view of the entire beach. I watched children play in the sand and reminisced about the days when I did, then I watched horses galloping by the shore, guided by its master. Sometimes, a passerby would walk past and I'd yell and wave to them from above, slightly making them jump. These were the days I missed the most at my current age; the ability to climb and wander off to places without having everyone thinking, "Look at that old woman..". I guess I shouldn't care what they all think but oh well, my legs aren't up for a climb either so we'll just let that slide.
It was my 16th birthday, that day I was talking about. I spent the whole morning with my family, singing birthday songs and ripping open presents with a huge and heartfelt appreciation for them having actually bought me things. After the excitement simmered down, I crept off by myself to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Up on those rocks I sat for around an hour or so, doodling on its rough surface with a chalk I kept in one of my pockets. Silence and serenity filled the air. That is until a shout of my name came from behind me. I spoke too soon.
Climbing up the rock was a four eyed, freckled and apparently shirtless figure of a teenage boy. He had olive skin and his dark curly brown hair sat in place under his cap. That day, I didn't know nothing more than his name; Frances. Fast forward 66 years and I still see him as the same young man he was. Today, his curly brown hair is only barely there, sitting as white as snow on the top of his balding head. His freckles still shone through the wrinkles of his cheeks and eyes. The only thing that changed was with me. Today, I know him more than anyone else does.
Our love story was short and sweet. Back then, the quicker you got married, the better it was. We spent 5 years of our lives together, struggling through teenage life that was coming to its end. At 21, we got married. Our wedding was held on our local beach and although at first resented by my mother, she finally gave in after I agreed to make the function at least a little more formal than I had wanted initially. I could've gotten married in summer dress for all I cared. The sun shone on the deep blue water, making the waves glisten even more in our eyes but neither the waves, the sun nor the sand under my feet could make me any happier than having the man I loved in front of me.
x "Sometimes, just sometimes, when people say 'forever', the mean it." x
----------------------------------
I just got back from school/SPM/exam papers and thought I'd finish this post I've been keeping in my drafts for almost a week. So, ta-da! Sometimes, I'm just really into writing stories like this and my previous Waldeinsamkeit post which to this day, I'm pretty happy about.
xx
0 comments:
Post a Comment