She gazed out to the farthest point to sea as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon. She was middle in the cup of the bay, with the craggy steep cliffs to her left and right. Her eyes closed softly and her ears opened to the laughter below on the beach. She thought she might have heard her sons voices amidst those of the other children playing on the beach or in the gentle methodical waves.
She listened intently upon the waves that almost mimicked her heart at that moment. The pause as a wave gathers offshore. That quiet, yet momentous moment before it spills over and rushes to the shore. She sees in her mind as the sea devours the sand and lashes out to bare toes, then feet, then ankles, then calves and knows the little scream one makes because of the chill the water brings. A smile forms and she opens her eyes.
Her scarf flutters over her eyes shielding the view that she wants to see of what she was thinking. She wants to see what she hears of the children. Was she not a carefree child not more than it takes for a wave to melt a sand castle? She pulls back the scarf the color of indigo blue and sand. It was as light and wispy as a lazy kite in the sky.
She inhales and the acrid smell of seaweed lying on the beach hits her nose. The smell brings up memories of dragging large seaweed ropes along the sand. Or the time when they all pretended it was a large slithering snake and how her children jumped away as she ran after them with the bulbous end that might “bite” them. She laughs slightly to herself of those times. This is a place of joy, a place of memory making.
The sun slips down closer to the sea almost to the point where it will be ablaze in shades of red, orange and yellow. She knows that her family will want her there with them as the sunset begins and hits the surface then dissolves into the deep blue sea. It was voted upon to stay at the beach till the first star twinkled in the sky. What that really meant was till the sky was filled with stars. They would all lie on the big quilt looking upward to count the stars and find the constellations. Times like this made magic because of her husband. Stories would abound as he talked. She knew he would reach for her to cuddle close and she would listen as the boys discovered the Milky Way.
She begins the walk down the rocky cliff trail careful not to slip. Her scarf is wild in the breeze that blows up to the cliffs from the beach. She wraps it once then twice and finishes it by making a soft over under slip as though she was tying her shoelaces. She recites to herself as she sinks her toes in the cooling sand that squishes and squashes beneath her.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
(Poem i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
by E. E. Cummings)