I went to the beach today. At first it was crowded, and that feeling of being watched plagued me like it always does. But as the sun lowered and the sand got barer and barer, the anxiety lessened. I ventured into the water then, my affinity for collecting shells drove me into the icy depths. As I went deeper, the tug of the waves began to feel like flirting. The push and pull of her foamy thrashing beginning to feel like the foreplay of foreplay. And even when she threw me around, splashed too far, it didn't feel like she was meaning to hurt me. The water dripping into my eyes never stung like it used to, and when I fell she always helped me get back up again. But soon, the movements began to feel like dancing, a unique waltz that no-one but us could perform. The force of her push urging me back to shore only pulled me deeper into her spell, our dance growing more complex and my urge to go deeper ever lingering. The sand felt like silk under my feet as we were entangled in each other, whispers of seaweed brushing me like her fingers reaching out to touch my sparkling salty skin. I realized I was laughing with joy at the pure bliss that enraptured me as I searched the seabed for shells to put in my jar. I was tempted then, to walk into the ocean and never swim back out. Even if I died, the death would be sweet, the tendrils of my one and only love surrounding me. But of course, we had to leave. As everyone packed up, I stood at the edge of the water. Letting the sea foam spray my skin for a little longer. Letting the gently flowing tides lap at my feet like the goodbye kisses of a lost lover. Letting her see my skin sparkle with her salt in the setting sun one last time before I was gone for another year.
As we walked inland, I took one last glance back, and it was like she was waving one last goodbye to me with a wave so huge it splashed over the rocks and sprayed the very sidewalk I stood on. It was almost poetic.
I waved back.
