Time In The Sand
A wave of desolation overcame her. Had it really been 12 months since her darling Donald had died? This was the first time she’d visited the beach and the holiday house they had both shared. The memories were overwhelming she ran outside and didn’t stop until she reached the surf’s edge. The white foamy waves were lapping at her toes. Her onyx eyes innocent and trusting starring out to sea. She wished life could be pre-packaged so that she could have it all.
With Donald she thought she did. They were high school sweethearts. They had a house that they’d turned into a home and were planning on having a family. But that hadn’t happened and now it never would. Donald was dead. They had waited too long wrapped up in themselves believing they had all the time in the world to have babies. She was only 36 years old and they had known each other for 20 years. No blonde babies would be born. No teenage daughter or having to deal with a tattooed boyfriend. Donald wouldn’t age, get wrinkled or have grey hair. There would be no midlife crisis to overcome. No twilight years or caravanning around Australia.
Irene had that all ahead of her, alone. She was depressed. Down in the dumps. Suicide wasn’t an option. She was scared of pain. She was stronger than the pain she was feeling. She just needed a moment to remember all the good times they had shared.
The sand was naked, devoid of any footprints. Not even a grain moved in the still air. She watched the waves brake on sand so smooth that it made you long to take a stick and start drawing. Donald had loved to draw. He was an architect. Often at the beach he would sit, pencil in hand and draw her.
The sifting sands of time saw her as a woman with a few too many pounds around her hips. Her bleached blonde hair had the first smattering of silver, above the regrowth. The wind whistled around her as goose bumps sprang to life on her skin. God, rescue me, bring colour into my world and remind me there’s more to life than pain. Show me a sign, please she implored, sinking to her knees as tears ran rampantly down her cheeks.
The men she had met in the last 12 months were like mascara. They ran at the first sign of emotion. But Donald didn’t. And everyone she met she couldn’t help but compare them to Donald. Her heart began thumping like a rubber band bouncing back and forth. The feelings were there bubbling, frothing, threatening to overwhelm her. The sea surged, wetting her whole body. It was cold and powerful. The surge sucked the sand away from her toes. She could taste the salt as she licked her dry lips.
Stumbling in the rough surf she waded up to her waist. Her eyes glazed over but self-preservation took over and she began floating. Irene began coughing as wave after wave hit her on her face. The salt was stinging her eyes. Surge after surge took her further and further away from the shore.
The cold sea was bluey-green and suddenly it became cool and calm. Irene began breathing easier. She stopped and trod water. Beside her a dolphin surfaced. He threw back his head and began babbling to her. Donald’s spirit seemed to be telling her that everything would be okay. Just as quickly as he appeared the dolphin disappeared.
Irene turned around and began swimming strongly back to shore. The beach was empty. She grabbed a stick and began writing on the sand. The desire to fill the whole beach with sand writing was irresistible. She wandered over to a rocky outcrop and began sifting the sand through her fingers as memories washed over her. She scooped sand into her palm, then squeezed her fingers shut, trying to prevent it from trickling out. The sand to her left was like a blank page demanding to be inscribed.
She began criss-crossing the sand covering it in footprints. Irene felt calm and in control. She felt the broken shells and pebbles scratching her feet until she again reached smooth sand. She watched the sea-rolling wave after waves up onto the beach. She could feel as though Donald was walking with her as the gulls shrieked overhead. She could smell the seaweed and see the sea glittering.
The sun was hot on her face lifting her spirits as the breeze played with her hair. Irene took one last look at the blue sea and surf as she slowly walked back to the batch. She could feel the love all around her as she entered the front door. Love that lasts through everything, through pain, deception, even loss. She tasted its incredible power. Irene knew that Donald’s loss had left a big hole in her heart but now believed she had the strength to survive. No longer would she avoid the places where they had spent so many happy hours. The sands of time had shifted. She had the strength to move on. No more mourning, it was time to celebrate the joy of being alive.
