I went to the beach again today. I always liked how the sand soothed my soles as I grappled with the sight of the seas stretching further than I could imagine. The skies further still encompassed me as they intertwined with the shimmering waters. After wasting my mind away in the concrete maze downtown, it was freeing to see everything laid out before me. Unlike the city, the beach is not afraid to present itself for what it is. To know the sea is to know all that divides me from the world.
If you were with me, you'd point off in the distance, giddily guiding me from Korea to Colombia.
"Hi, Mum!"
"Hey, mate. How've you been holding up?"
"I'm okay! I've been a little sleepy, but I finished Back to the Future like you told me to."
"Yeah? How was it?"
"Awesome!"
"Awesome."
…
…
"Hey, Mum?"
"Hey."
"Do you know when I get to go home?"
…
…
"Soon enough."
I swivel to face the sound of a car door softly closing. Leaned against the car is my husband. He panders to me with a crinkled brow and earnest smile, but I know there is nothing left of him. The day after you left, he expelled all his humanity in one session. He caresses me when I weep, nods as I lament, but knows not what it is to go through hell and persevere. My skin writhes as he flashes another empty smile in what he thinks is comfort. I turn back around and walk closer to shore. The waves lap at my feet laid bare, subtly cementing them in the sand. A tear drops from my cheek to the waters, and it too is claimed.
"Wait, but you said he could cure anything!"
"I know. Not this, though."
"But… but he has so many bottles and needles and machines! He said they can kill any germ!"
"That's the thing, mate. You don't have a germ. A part of you doesn't work properly anymore, and it's taking everything else from you."
…
…
"I wanna go home now."
My husband's footsteps reach my ears as they slide through the sand. His stride is slowed. I meet him further up the beach, where he holds you in his arms. Your pale cheeks are warmed by the summer heat as your eyes stare aimlessly upwards. You are gently lowered into a hole in the sand. Our silence screams across the sand before my husband begins to speak. He speaks, yet he says nothing. Meaningless remarks of a man that knew nothing of you.
But then I wonder,
Did anyone know you?