My dad was mean to me when I was a kid. There are moments that rise to the surface of my memory, slick-backed and shooting water in all directions. We went to the beach and I walked with my dad to the pier.
There were fishermen and seagulls and my dad hated me, but there were moments like these.
I leaned over the railing and watched the water crashing against the beams. I watched as the earth churned, inspired by magic deep inside its core. There was magic in these moments. I loved what he loved for a moment. I forgot who I was. He pointed to a dark spot in the water. It grew and grew to the size of a dinner table and the shell of a sea turtle emerged, alien and mythic and black, my heart stood still.
It was only a moment. I saw four legs released at her sides. She took a breath and disappeared under the foam and agitation. I worried about her in the surf. I wanted her to go back, to go far away from here.
photo by dan zen
I linked up with Write On Edge. Today's prompt was “The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”
~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke