In search of extinct stars

The song of reborn stars

The road I'm about to travel won't always be smooth, but now I'm doing it with a smile on my lips and renewed strength in my heart. The sea, which has always been my refuge, is now my terrain of exploration and discovery. I'm no longer just sitting on the shore, watching others take risks; I'm living life to the full, feeling every vibration of the water beneath my board, learning to pick myself up after every fall.

As the weeks go by, the surf school takes shape. I organize meetings with local youngsters, introducing them to the joys of surfing. Each session is marked by bursts of laughter, hilarious falls and smiles that make these moments precious. I realize that every child on the beach represents a flash of life, a promise for the future, and I feel honored to share my passion with them. It's a way for me to pass on some of Lucas's energy, a way of continuing our journey together in a different form.

The vibrations from the surf school resonate throughout the town. More and more kids come, and I start organizing friendly competitions. These events reach their peak by attracting families, friends and even the curious who want to find out what we do. Each competition is a mixture of excitement and nostalgia for me, but I'm constantly reminded of why I'm here. I want Lucas to be proud of me, and I want him to know that I live for him as much as for myself.

One fine summer afternoon, as the children bravely dash across the waves, I pause to take in the scenery. The sea sparkles in the sunlight, and the laughter of the youngsters echoes around me like soft music. I close my eyes for a moment to savor the moment. When I open them again, I decide to pick up the board and enter the water once more.

I join their cries of joy and let myself be carried along by the waves. This time, my session isn't just an escape; it's a celebration of all that life has taught me. I ride the waves, rising with the sea, carried by the collective energy. When I fall, I laugh even harder, because I know that this experience is shared.

One afternoon, after a good surf session, I sit down with Alex on the still-warm sand. The sun is setting on the horizon, and golden hues envelop the beach. We share memories and discuss the future of the surf school.

"I think we should consider courses outside Mölle too," Alex proposes, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "You know, offer a combination of surfing and personal development. It could really help these kids build themselves up."

I love this idea. It's exactly what kids need: a space to grow while surfing and to learn life lessons through the water. I can already see the youngsters thriving in different environments, discovering a new culture while building their self-confidence.

But in the middle of our conversation, a slight cloud of guilt creeps back into my mind. The idea of bringing Lucas' spirit to life through all this sometimes makes me anxious. Have I done enough? Will this be enough to honor him?

Alex seems to have guessed my thoughts. "Manon, you're already doing so much. Lucas would have been proud of you. Every smile you put on those kids' faces, every wave they surf... it's already a victory."

His words are a light in the darkness, and I know he's right. I remember all the times we spent together, his passion for passing on the joy and love of surfing. I want this school to be an extension of his legacy, something vibrant and dynamic that will continue to touch lives.

The days go by, filled with laughter, learning, and building relationships. As the seasons pass, I begin to see progress in the youngsters. Some of them take to the waves with such ease that it's hard to believe they were novices just a few months before. Every time a kid manages to stand up on his board for the first time, I get a shiver down my spine. It's as if Luke is applauding, with his infectious smile.

One day, at a regional competition, several of my students are selected to take part. The excitement in the air is palpable. I stand on the shore, heart pounding, seeing familiar faces. I whisper words of encouragement to them as they get ready, making sure they remember to have fun first.

When the long-awaited moment arrives and the results are announced, I see tears of joy between the children. Some win prizes, while others, though not selected, leave with bright smiles on their faces. It's the start of a new chapter, not only for them, but for me too. I realize that every victory is precious, regardless of the podium.

I encourage them to celebrate all the effort they've put in, and to understand that true success lies in the journey, the lessons learned, and the bonds forged. I then feel an inner peace settle over me. Lucas isn't just there in the memories; he lives on through every smile, every wave, and every shared moment.

The months pass inexorably, weaving a thread between past and present. Every surf session, every step taken on this beach, every laugh exchanged with my students brings me closer to what I really want to become. And with each step forward, I begin to feel a lightness, as if the weight of my sorrow is finally being lifted.

I take the time to celebrate the small victories, to thank myself for every moment, to keep the memory of Lucas close to my heart. I continue to write in my notebook, jotting down my thoughts, hopes and memories. The notebook becomes a compendium of gratitude, a way of honoring past moments while turning my thoughts to the future.

The water and the waves become both my healing and my catharsis. With each session, I let myself be carried away by the tide, knowing that I'm now sailing not just for myself, but also for Lucas. His voice echoes within me whenever I face fear or uncertainty. I hear his encouragement: "Go for it, Manon!"

And one day, while surfing in the shimmering waves, I burst out laughing. For the first time in a long time, I feel immense happiness, pure, authentic joy. It's as if the sea itself is embracing me, reassuring me that ahead lies a radiant future to conquer. My heart is light and my thoughts clear. Yes, I'm ready to live. Ready to embrace life, with Lucas still in my heart, echoing his smile through every wave.

There's something soothing about life with Alex. The more things go, the more I realize that I love this life, and that it's largely thanks to him that I'm here today, smiling, having regained the taste for life, surfing, seeing where I'm going.

"What if we stayed here even longer, Alex?" said I, my voice laden with emotion. "I feel like we belong here, in Mölle, building something real."

Alex looks at me, surprised, then his smile lights up his face. "You know, I thought so too. This place, this community... we could really make our nest here."

The sound of the waves in the background seems to approve our decision. Then I realize that, much more than just a project, this surf school could become our home, a reflection of everything we've built together.

"We can put our dreams in here," Alex adds, no doubt thinking of the friendly rivalries, the children's laughter, and the team efforts we've cultivated. He takes my hand in his and, for a moment, everything seems possible.

The weeks go by and, as the surf school continues to flourish, Alex and I find a new rhythm, a space where each of us can flourish. As our school grows, so does our relationship. We share laughs, challenges and doubts, but also projects that will exceed our imaginations. Our nights are filled with discussions about our common future, and our days with bright smiles amidst the waves.

One evening, as the moon reflects on the calm sea, I turn to Alex: "Can you believe it? We've really created this place for ourselves. It's home now."

He nods, a knowing smile on his lips. "Yes, and it's our little piece of paradise. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

In that moment, the idea of a deeper commitment makes sense. I feel a growing surge of love, a silent promise to build a meaningful life together. As the days go by, the certainty grows stronger: no matter where life takes us, as long as we're together, we're home.

And as we gaze out to sea, I realize that this shared love is just as precious as the waves that come and go. This is the beginning of a new story, that of Alex and Manon, a love born on the beach and rooted in the soil of their community. Together, we've found our way, and our home, here in Mölle.