beach is wet, with puddles from the crashing waves up to the grass line. The cumulonimbus clouds hang heavy above us as if they await our departure to drop the
remaining precipitation onto the beach. The water is calm. The waves are almost inaudible. The whole world is almost inaudible.
There she stands. Her old blue dress. Her black shoes. Her red-ribboned white hat. Her dirty apron. She must have rushed here from the kitchen in which she
works. Her purse lays in the sand behind her feet. She looks as stunning as she did the day we met on this beach.
She was seventeen, I eighteen. She and her friends were swimming in this very spot when she began to drown. She had been pulled under by a harsh wave. Her
friends started to scream and VOCIFERATE for someone to help as they could not find her. And then she surfaced, waving her arms around in desperate need of someone to pull
her out of the cold water. The waves had slammed her into the rocks below the surface, and her leg had been broked by the force of the impact. I, being the nearest to
her, of course jumped into the water to come to her rescue. I payed no attention to what she looked like at first. I only thought of saving her. When I reached her,
she was unconscious, her legs bloody, arms bruising. How could she not have broken anything more? By the way she looked, you might think she had been attacked by a
When we reached the shore, I could do nothing to resuscitate her. I tried so much. But I could not get her to breathe. As I was beginning to give up, a miracle
happened. She coughed and gasped and grab...
... middle of paper ...
... to fall from the heavy clouds once more, pounding into the sand, making puddles grow larger as I stood there
admiring the beauty of the one that got away. And then she disapeared, as though she was a mirage. And I presume that she was. Whether or not I could 've ever been
loved by her as I much as I loved her, I will never know. I saw her obituary a week ago. She had died in this ocean. She was watching her grandchildren when she was
swept under the waves. I was not there to save her. I couldn 't have saved her if I tried.
With the disappearng image of her, I saw the disappearing of my soul. My happiness has been gone for so long. My heart has hurt for so many years... How could
I ever regain my strength? How can I press on knowing that she does not walk this earth as I do? Her silhouette is gone, her footprints faded with the tide.
I begin my march to the sea.
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