Amazed at the texture that was both long forgotten and yet familiar, I buried my toes into the silky, wet sand. Many years had passed since I had last allowed my toes to burrow into the ever-shifting sand that swallowed feet and seashells alike.
Cool, smooth fingers slid between mine as I glanced up in surprise. The figure beside me was tall and garbed in white. When I tried to focus on the figure’s face, I found that his features were continually shifting and changing. I tried for a few moments to pinpoint the changes…to follow which features changed and when, but my vision would blur almost instantly.
“Hello,” I muttered to the figure in white at last. Where there should have been fear or hesitation, I found only a strangely distant familiarity. I felt no desire to yank my hand away; there was something comforting in his touch. I was completely at ease. The warmth that the sun gave as it shone down on the little sandbar was neither stifling nor overbearing. It kissed my skin in the way that only sunshine can.
I counted at least three times that the waves lapped gently at the sand before the stranger responded to me, “Hello, little soul.” Those three simple words were musical honey to my ears. I marveled at the rich, diverse tones of his voice. It was a masculine baritone. Yet at the same time, it was a sweet soprano.
“Who are you?” I mouthed slowly despite my voice almost being engulfed by the sound of the waves, even as quiet as they were.
“I am Life. I have been with you always; holding your hand or supporting you in my arms as you have made your way throughout your journey.” The words streamed over me like water. So, he wasn’t a stranger t...
... middle of paper ...
...h you always.” His voice cut through my entire body. It was soft, yet strong. “I have come to take you home, little soul. You have blindly stumbled throughout life long enough.” A deep feeling of comfort settled within my soul as he said the word “home.” I leaned closer into this stranger’s chest.
“Can I watch one more sunset before we leave?” I whispered. The stranger nodded as we turned to face the setting sun. My eyes traced the horizon as I tried to memorize all the oranges, reds, and pinks of the blazing sunset. “Will you remain with me once the sun sets?” I asked as my eyes grew heavy and my body grew weak.
“We will go from this place together, little soul. I will remain with you always.” His words were comforting as the sun slowly disappeared. In the dark, silky fabric of the night sky, my eyes closed and my body fully relaxed into the arms of my Father.
The warm wind blew my hair back, while I listened to the chatter and thumps from the steps on the wooden walkway. Car horns occasionally sounded as they passed by up the road. Colorful sail boats provided a picturesque background. Paris had his camera wrapped around his neck and was focused on the glowing sunset. We sat on a black swinging chair, facing the rippling water that held the sunset’s warm reflection. Paris scrolled through the pictures on his black professional camera.
If we bemoan the loss of light as the day changes to night we miss the sunset. In her memoirs Refuge, Terry Tempest Williams relates the circumstances surrounding the 1982 rise in the Great Salt Lake as well as her mother’s death from cancer. Throughout the book Williams gets so caught up in preventing her mother’s death that she risks missing the sunset of her mother’s life. However the Sevier-Fremont’s adaptability to changes in nature inspires Terry Tempest Williams to re-evaluate her response to changes in her life.
Just like her, I began crying. This was the last time I would see my Father. He took on new adventures, just like I. It was time to leave the precious farm lands and head
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
When children are growing up they are often told to never forget where they come from. This was taught in my community, and also this is a lesson that I have taught my children. Changes in the lives of myself and my family was expected, but I always knew where home was. Yet, even though I knew how to get home, I struggled with whether or not I could go home. This thought afforded myself a chance to connect to the author.
We got there right after the sun’s peak time ended, so around 3pm, and my breath was taken away by it’s beauty. The sand is so soft, it feels like a fuzzy blanket on a cold fall day. When I walked on the beach I could faintly smell the of salt. As I would walk into the water, I could feel my skin tighten as the salt water would touch my skin. Then, as I got out of the water, I could taste the salt lingering on my lips.
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
It was the middle of the night when my mother got a phone call. The car ride was silent, my father had a blank stare and my mother was silently crying. I had no idea where we were headed but I knew this empty feeling in my stomach would not go away. Walking through the long bright hallways, passing through an endless amount of doors, we had finally arrived. As we
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
I open my mouth. From deep inside my soul a melody flows out of my chest, off of my tongue, and finally caresses my lips with the sweetest touch, and my song fills the air with a boldness like that of the glory of the angels. The sound of my song is that of unfathomable wonder, a voice as sweet and smooth as the face of a child. I sing and sing and sing my heart out, and I wonder and wonder and wonder in awe of the sound that is coming from my mouth and my...
It was a dreadful afternoon, big droplets of rain fell directly on my face and clothes. I tasted the droplets that mixed with my tears, the tears I cried after the incident. The pain in my foot was excruciating. It caused me to make a big decision of whether I should visit you or not. I decided I would. I limped towards my bright, blue car where my bony, body collapsed onto the seat. I started the engine up but at the same time being cautious of my bleeding foot. I then drove to the destination where I was bound to meet you. I was bound to meet you after three years of counselling from my last appearance with you. I guess all I can remember is the scarring....
All I could feel was rugged sand all over my body and in my mouth. Land, we had washed ashore! Then I remembered fully what had happened last night. I began to look for Tom. "Tom, Tom, Where are you!!" There was no sign of him anywhere. Then I saw the footprints in the sand.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her gargantuan skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every morning together