Safe Harbor

| 22 |

Skipping rocks on the  beach always manages to calm me down.

Is it because I find something soothing in the way the pebbles graze the water's surface, before finally submerging in it's mysterious depths? Or maybe it's the way that they sound as they plunk across, three or four times, without fail. I watch the ripples that form as each rock leaves its mark momentarily on that particular spot in the water, and no matter what the reason, I feel at ease.

The sun isn't even up yet, but once again, I am. I can see it, just beginning to peek over the horizon,  bathing me in dawn's early rays. The sight is gorgeous; sunrises are always full of pinks and blues and violets, and I never tire of them. I don't think I ever will.

I've been coming out here, doing this morning routine of mine, for a while now. Waking up when  the rest of the world is still asleep; being careful not to step on the hands or feet of my friends as I carefully make my way out of our treehouse, and climb down onto the steady ground. I've stopped wearing my shoes out; they only create noise. Instead, my feet hug the ground the way they were meant to, and I relish in the way the cool, damp soil feels between my toes. I enjoy strolling about for a bit, somewhere different each day; content with my thoughts. But I always, always, end up in the exact same place when sunrise begins: the beach.

Dad would love it here, that's for sure. An open view of the water; nothing ahead but an endless expanse of shimmering blue in sight; it would be a dream. When I was younger, before he was always gone, he and I would travel around whatever town we were in in that particular time and hope to find a beach, just like this. If I close my eyes, I can still picture it vividly in my head.

A tall, patient man dressed in his casual blues, crouches down and smiles at a younger version of himself. He gathers some pebbles in his hands, and places one in the boy's hands, showing him just the right way to throw it, to make it defy gravity and bounce across the surface. I see him mouth, "Your turn,"  before the boy, gathering up all his courage and might, allows the pebble to fly from his tiny hands.

When I open my eyes once more, I'm sure the blinding grin on my face is a mirror of the one I'd had all that time ago.

But as soon as it comes, it's gone. I can remember how my dad looked, years ago, but somehow, my recent memories are the ones that are failing me.

I couldn't remember how long ago I'd arrived on the island. I couldn't remember what day it was; had no idea the month, either. I felt lost, confused, and dazed, always. Back home, I was  always been the one to know the date, know what was going on when. Without a sense of time, I couldn't help but feeling utterly confused.

I skip another rock and try to think more clearly, but this time it doesn't work as well.

I can't tell Marco and the others. I was just beginning to feel accepted here; to feel like maybe I could belong, something I've never felt anywhere in my whole, entire life. I didn't want to risk that by voicing silly fears about not knowing the date. I'd get over this feeling, eventually.

At least, that's what I'd been telling myself.

"Fancy seeing you here, Alex," a jovial voice calls out from behind me, making me startle.

Keda takes a seat next to me with a grin. "You're pretty good at that, you know?" She says, as I skip another rock.

I half-smile. "I've had loads of practice."

She shifts uncomfortably and I can tell she wants to tell me something. "What's going on?" I ask.

"I've been meaning to tell you, but you've been so busy lately, with helping Jack, and working on the tree houses; oh! Those have turned out beautifully, I must say, marvelous job, I mean really--"