crescent [h.s]

56

Aurora Styles

I snuck out of bed this morning, getting myself dressed into a pair of jeans and a small white crop top, throwing my hair into a claw clip and hiding my eyes with some sunglasses before leaving Harry a note, if he wakes up before I'm back.

I'm as quiet as possible as I walk downstairs and fill my bottle up with cold water and ice, putting my white converse on and closing the door behind me, the sun hitting my skin immediately.

I take a deep breath as I walk along the parade, taking time to myself and not rushing this walk or journey. In the 9 years I've made this walk, I've never once rushed it, I've never once gone with someone else.

This is my time to be with her.

I walk over to the beach, but not in front of mine and Harry's house. Instead, I walk over to my old apartment, nostalgia running through me like it did last April 16th.

Instead of following previous years usual behaviour of sitting on the bench at the very top of the beach, I make it all the way down to the shore this year, even further than I did last year.

I sit on the beach alone, staring at every grain of warm sand that only gets warmer as the sun rises into the sky. My eyes then lift to focus on the water, watching each wave rush in and out, being reminded of her with each surge of power and ripple of water that rushes back with a pile of sand.

It takes me at least half an hour to begin, but when I do, it's impossible to stop.

Talking to my grandma has always come so easily to me, we could talk about everything and anything.

However, the difference this year is that I'm actually speaking in Greek. I've never been able to do that before.

"Proí giagiá, pós eínai o parádeisos?"

I smile to myself as I bring my legs into my chest and place my cheek on my knee, "Elpízo na eínai oraío, axízete móno to kalýtero. Pes mou, écheis mageirépsei akóma gýro gia ólous? Échoun perásei enniá chrónia, niótho óti eínai arketós chrónos, sostá?"

Although the ache in my heart increases with every Greek word I speak to her, on her death anniversary, it also feels healing. Something about it feels undeniably right– like this is where I'm meant to be this morning.

Maybe I'm crazy, but it feels as if she's sitting next to me on her right, with a flask of hot chocolate she always made to perfection in her hand, the little cup being passed back and forth between us as she listens to every word I speak, only interrupting if I say something harmful about myself which she didn't approve of.

She's always been my protector.

Even from my own parents.

"Mou leípeis, akóma ponáo me tin apousía sou. Merikés forés boró akóma na to nióso tóso kathará, kai den échete idéa ti tha ékana gia na akoúso na me apokaleíte prinkípissa sas álli mia forá."

I smile to myself as tears start to form in my waterline, not happy tears, but also not quite broken tears, "Pánta agapoúses aftí ti frási, étsi den eínai? Alli miá forá." I put on my best impression of her thick accent that constantly provided me with peace and a sense of love, "Éla prinkípissa, álli mia forá kai metá boreís na ta paratíseis. an kai emeís oi Adler den ta paratáme me akoús? Étsi, idaniká, aftí i álli forá, den tha simaínei pragmatiká éna. Aplós tha sas dósei aftó to kínitro pou xéro óti prépei na sas othísete perissótero."

The tears start to fall as I remind myself of her on a deeper level, and that's when the pain really starts to kick me straight in the stomach.

I sob to myself, rubbing my makeup free face on the knees of my jeans, "I miss you so much. Please come back to me. I need a hug, from you. A need you to come back."