Waves or words?

"She settles on my chest as the waves sleep against the shore."

I am curious about the things around me and about everything between me and her. I ask so many questions, and she knows that well. Interestingly, she loves the way I do so. She feels that as she doesn't know what to talk in general, my questions help her get into conversations. That's why she answers each of my question even if it sounds silly to both of us. Last time when we met in this place, she told me about a way she could answer all my questions even if she is not with me. She was away from me for past few months. I am seeing her today after so long, and it feels surreal to be somewhere close to her again.

Now, she is standing by the seashore, or maybe I am the shore where she wishes to settle. She is dressed in a deep blue dress, matching with the shade of the sea. Her arms are open, feeling iciness of the breeze and embracing freshness of the sunset. For a while, I look at the view of her hair swaying in the air and her dress billowing by the wind. I walk towards her, and when I am one foot away from her, I whisper into her ear, "Hey, I am here." She turns back at once, causing her hair to cover half of her face. I gently touch them and slide those hair strands behind her ear, and she keeps watching me doing that. "Can we walk barefoot on the shore?" I ask her, and waves lap over my feet when she nods yes.

As we are strolling side by side, our hands come in touch. She looks into my eyes, and I hold her hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. There I see a warm smile on her face, the smile that buds at the center of her lips and spreads across the flesh of her cheeks. It is something I have been longing to see from ages. Although we have quite much to say to each other, we both take pleasure of the calmness between us.

Leaving our footprints on wet sand while we step forward, I ask, "Did you miss me when you were away?" She looks down as if she is trying to find some pearl abandoned by tides. When the tides return to grab it back, she says in a low voice, "Yes, I missed you so much." This is what I want to hear. Being missed by her means my presence is something to her, something she doesn't want to miss.

I am a lover, and when a man is in love, he's greedy. He seeks for more and more words of assurance, or perhaps the ultimate certainty can only be given by the word 'love'. "Do you love me?" I ask, looking straight into her eyes this time. I sense chills when water touches my bare feet. She tightens the hold on my hand and says, "Yes, I do." I feel the softness of her palm pressed tight against the sweat in mine, and that gesture affirms how much she loves me. This is all I want to know. Being loved by her means I belong to her and she belongs to me, the completeness of two souls in love.

The sun is slowly losing its shine as it's drowning in the edge of the sea at some distance away from us. I want to be with her always, every day, every minute, and every second of my life. I don't want her to leave me as she did last time. So, I must ask her a final question; a question that decides the fate of our bond. I stop walking, and she stops with me, realizing I have got something more to ask. "Can you take me along with you?" I ask, being emotional. She looks at me but says nothing. I see her eyes fill with tears while I wait for an answer. This time, the waves, that advanced, roll back to the sea without touching my feet, and it washes away all her footprints.

As I said in the beginning, last time when we met in this place, she told me about a way she could answer all my questions even if she is not with me. She had said to me, "No matter how far I go, I will talk to you in yes or no. Walk barefoot on this seashore and ask me what you want to know. If the waves wash your feet, it's me, saying 'yes', and if the waves roll back to the sea before touching you, hear my 'no'.''

So, what are months? Let years pass. Even if decades flip as pages, she can still talk to me when I stand by this seashore.

-Noel P T