Skip to main content

Get Away


First published April 22 2006

I remember the first time i ever went to the beach. I remember how i thought everything about galveston was beautiful. (i know galveston is horrible! but it was beautiful then). I played forever in that water, felt the sand beneath my toes. I wasnt even afraid that i didnt know how to swim because my dad was there and i knew i was safe. I layed on the sand, facing the ocean. In enough to let the water touch my earlobes, tickling them, the ocean telling its own story. Filled with tears and bottled messages. And my child mind couldnt help but think how long it took for someone to cry to fill the ocean up. And i wondered if this was where all tears ended up. I knew nothing of life then. I know too much of pain now.
I dream of that day often, of a place where nothing is harder than it seems. I'd like to get away sometime soon, to the beach maybe. Or hide away somewhere where a single battle is lost, but not the whole war.... *sigh*

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love never returns void

Many years ago I wrote a piece on a dear friend of mine. At the time her story unraveled with a heartbreaking ending. But if anything remains true from that story is that she is and will continue to be the eternal optimistic… who always, always believes in love. She paced back and forth, looking at the door and back at her watch every few minutes. She was nervous and her hands were sweating. Finally to catch a breath she sits down and lets out a deep sigh. And she closes her eyes. It’s surreal to her how years ago this was the exact same spot she last saw him. Where he promised he loved her and that love was everlasting. The last place before their story crashed and unraveled. She never thought shed be back here again after the way it ended. Years had passed and life and time had taken their toll on their story. One she thought was signed and sealed, shelved on a book case and had become dusty with time. She got up at the sound of the announcer saying the flight had arrived. She l...

How to flip tortillas without burning your hand

It was a bright and early morning when I woke up to the sound of my alarm and my sister opening the curtains wide letting in a little too much sunlight. I wanted desperately to turn the other way and sleep in a few more minutes but even on vacation she was a stickler for time. So I rolled out of bed reluctantly, I got dressed, and we headed for the days adventures; snorkeling first on our list. We got to the dock and after boarding instructions we boarded the vessel that would take us to a near island with coral reefs. Finally at our destination the boat anchored and we were handed our gear. So flippers and all people one by one jumped into the vast ocean uninhibited. I did too. I’d forgotten how rough the Pacific was. A greater part of World War II had been fought here. Somehow the waters still reeked of vengeance. Except I forgot I could not swim, and at that moment even how to float. So I was instantly submerged by the undertow and the lapping of the waves. I fought to catc...

The magnitude of history

It’s my usual Sunday night, me rummaging through notes and notebooks, editing and writing. I stood up and went into my writing closet. Realizing that the binder I wanted was at the very top, I stood on a stool and yanked at the bottom of the stack. Swiftly it all came toppling over me, hitting me in the head in the process. Papers and folders scattered everywhere. I grunted. I began picking them up one by one when I ran across a manila folder gently titled “WEDDING” in block letters, with a red heart sticker following the word. I’d forgotten I was planning a wedding. I slid slowly to the floor till I was sitting and I began to go through its contents. There were lists of first dance songs and father/daughter songs; clippings of flower arrangements, swatches of fabrics, notebook entries of budgets, and location listings. There it all was. Very detailed and organized. All I ever dreamed of, all I thought I ever wanted. And on the last page, on the back cover of the folder, a pasted...