Calm

A little snippet of a tragic life.

Calm

You remember one day of your life very distinctly.

It was a hot summer day, one of those sweltering afternoons where everyone flocks to the water.

You remember you liked going to the ocean.

It was easier to think there.

It was easier to breathe there.

It was grand and turbulent and serene and calming all at once.

You had always liked complicated things.

Till this day you still don’t know why you did it.

You waded into the water to cool off, like most other people.

You remember looking back at your mother and father.

Two different beach towels, two feet apart, facing two different directions.

You remember wondering how your mother lived in silence, never discussing more than what to make for dinner or what was needed from the store.

You remember in the car ride over, studying your father’s features.

And you knew, you became positive.

He was not part of you, at least not in the biological sense.

Twelve years old, and you have this secret that sends your thoughts swirling into the unknown.

You turned back to the tide, feeling it lapping at your ankles.

You remember going deeper into the water, passed the women waders in their modest one-pieces and giant sun hats.

You remember hitting the point where your toes no longer touched the sand.

You remember moving to float on your back, seeing the ring around the sun.

The one thing you don’t remember, is why you decided to stop treading water.

You had always thought drowning would be terrible.

But this was exquisite.

Drifting slowly downward, seeing the layers of blue pass you by, was utterly gorgeous.

Beams of dull glowing sunlight pierced the water’s surface, and cascaded all the way down to the ocean floor.

You remember not feeling scared, but completely at ease, just adrift, just sinking.

You were not very deep, but it felt like you had been falling forever.

You remember your eyes hurting from the salt water, but you couldn’t stand to close them.

You felt your shoulder blades hit the soft ocean bottom.

You saw your own air bubbles escape from your mouth and stream away from you.

You remember thinking everything looked so soft, so completely silken.

You spread your hands and pushed them into the sand, feeling the grains slide under your fingertips.

You felt the gentle swells above you pulsing, making your hair sway with it.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm and you were ripped to the surface, serenity lost.

You reached air and started sputtering, blinded by unfiltered sunlight.

You were being pulled to the shore.

You could hear commotion come from the other beach goers.

Back on dry land, you feel your mother shaking you, begging you to open your eyes.

So you do, and the first thing you see is your father’s face, his head eclipsing the sun.

You look from him to your mother, who is beyond the point of relief when she sees that you are alive.

You weren’t even breathing hard.

Your father grabbed the back of your neck, and looked you in the eye, searching for any sign of harm.

When he saw that there was nothing, he pushed you away, and turned from you in disgust.

From that day on, age twelve, you decided to be sad.

You had plenty of excuses, an abusive father, the neglect of being the antithesis of what you were expected to be.

But you chose to be sad mostly because you knew you would never see such beauty ever again.

What was left but disappointment when the most magnificent had already been experienced?

And then there was her.

She is that day, encapsulated into a living being.

She is absolute beauty, tragedy, and disappointment summed up into one.

You are desperate for that brief feeling of thoughtlessness, of being so completely awed by something that no other notions exist within your mind.

She is the only thing you have found that can give you that respite.

Being with her, seeing her, smelling her.

It’s like drowning pleasantly.

That’s why you need her around.

Not to keep you in your place, to keep you in that place.