peculiar winds

"I was just 6, he was 7, and everything was easy."

Jensen and I lay on the coast, letting the sun gently caress our faces. The year was 2012; April, specifically. I was just 6, he was 7, and everything was easy.

"Elizabeth, that cloud looks like a baby." Jensen pointed to an oddly shaped cloud in the azure sky. I couldn't see the baby too well; rather, a bulky 80s telephone. "It looks like a telephone." I said confidently. He nodded his head.

Our parents sat on the grass, sipping peppermint tea and talking about things like jobs and whatnot, nothing we would've understood at our age. We were far too busy paying attention to the clouds in the sky.

"You guys have got to be kidding me, it looks like a lamp," my dad said joining us. "You're right!" I laughed. Now that I really think about it, it was far from a lamp, my young mind just felt like agreeing out of amusement. Amusement, I miss that feeling.

"Jensen, look at Effie." He lifted his head from the floor and turned it towards his older sister, who lay on the sand with her arms barely outstretched. "Is she sleeping?" Jensen asked. "I think she's dead." I said in response. This must've struck something in Jensen's mind, as he quickly stood up and sprinted towards Effie. This must've struck something in me as well, as I suddenly got up to run with him, so fast, in fact, that I face planted in the sand. I don't remember too much of the fall, rather than the hot tears streaming down my face, and my dad lifting my head and wiping the sand out of my eyes.

It's been 7 years, and I'm 12 now; turning 13 in July. Now, I no longer cry because of the sand in my eyes. My tears are for my dad, who isn't around to wipe it out anymore. He's dead; got into a major car wreck 3 months ago. The overall thought of his death irks my mind, as my dad sort of fizzled out of my life as I grew older. He was doing work and taking long business trips, and I never really spoke to him in person before his death.

Because of my childhood being cut off so quickly, sorrowful memories on the beach are the kinds I yearn for now. I wish I was still on the beach, bawling my eyes out; at least those tears didn't actually hurt.