My boots scraped against the sidewalk as I trudged along with a smile. I’d just been to Lindsay’s house, as she had invited me there earlier. It had been great fun, although the only thing we did was make comments about movies that we’d watched.
I tilted my head up towards the dark blue cloth above me, dots spreading across the velvet. I blinked, and they blinked back. I gazed longingly at them, wishing ever so much that I could dedicate myself to the night sky. A wave of sea wind flew through my hair, weaving through its strands.
Kicking off my boots, I strode into the smooth, soft sand. It felt like a feather blanket under my feet as I moved my toes, the sand parting around them. I ran closer to the melodious sound of seawater lapping against the shore. Eager to dip my ankles into the water, I hurried closer and sat just by the waves. They curled up after touching my toes, and retracted back into the sea.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the water, I felt the waves amongst my feet, and I smelt the saltiness of the sea. My back laid itself on the sand, and I felt it cave slightly upon my weight.
“Why don’t you go home?”
I turned, a little surprised at who the owner of the voice was, and frowned. “I don’t have one. This,” I gestured around the sea, “is my home.”
He laughed maniacally. “Liar.”
“Why won’t you leave me alone? Anything I do is none of your concern, Jack.” I closed my eyes again, attempting to bore him enough for him to walk away.
I felt his presence lingering, and he even sat down beside me. Why can’t he just go away?
“That shack underneath the coconut tree – that’s your home.”
My eyes were opened wide in defense. “That thing is not a home. Having parents who care for you, brothers and sisters that run around playing catch – that’s a home, Jack. That’s what I want. That thing will never be a home to me. A house, perhaps, but not a home.”
“Do you know what’s a home?”
“A jar to keep flowers from toppling down,” I answered. “A bag to contain your books so you don’t have to hold them on your own.”
Tears were pounding against the walls of my eyes, but I forced myself to swallow them back into my throat. They kept resurfacing, like saliva in your mouth.
Jack shook his head. “A home is where memories were created. It’s that corner of your heart where frost can never reach. If you don’t even know what a home is, you don’t deserve one.”
I buried my head in my arms, devastated. “I don’t know…”
Jack stood, dusted his jeans, and stared down at me.
“Go home.”
There it was. Not much, as I would have preferred, but it gazed over to the thin line which was out of reach. I touched the smooth wooden walls, and went in. The image of my parents waving at me at the tiny doorway flashed past my eyes. I wiped my sleeve across my eyes.
“I’m home.”
