It’s a place to go where magic happens. When asked where it is I always say: Far from anywhere.
Across the sandhills and down through the runoff I wander focused always on the distance surf, relentlessly pounding the rocks, forever rolling in no matter high or low tide.
I met a woman there once, standing on the water’s edge, the ebbing tides circling her feet, occasionally running up her shins. She never flinched as the water is always cold in this spot.
I knew her mind was somewhere beyond the horizon, in a place I am sure she longed to be.
There was only the two of us there that day. I went and stood beside her, for no other reason that I thought I needed another human near to me.
She didn’t say anything, didn’t move away but stood there as focused as she had been from the first moment I spied her.
After a while, she turned and said, “It’s a big pond, isn’t it? Do you think on the other side there are people like us, wondering if there are people like them staring out?”
“Bound to be,” I said, “It’s what people do isn’t it. Stand at the edge of the sea and look to the horizon.”
“Yes,” she replied, “it’s a beautifully speculative thought.”
I didn’t have an answer to that statement, so I stood there beside her watching the waves do what they did with monotonous regularity.
“You come here a lot don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “as often as I can.”
“It lessens your pain doesn’t it, being here I mean.”
“Yes,” I replied feeling uncomfortable.
“I’m glad you do; I’ve seen you here so many times. It does me good to see you.”
At this moment I stepped back as she turned to me and I saw in her eyes the hurt of a thousand souls.
“It will get better you know. It will.”
With that, she touched my arm in such a way that I felt a surge of love go through my body. It tingled every pore of my skin such that when it ended, she had gone back over the dunes and away.