run away

"No he didn't," you said, agaped in response to the news. Besides my family, you were the first to know since it happened an hour prior to your arrival.

"He did. And I'm fine," I said, smiling.

"You are lying," you chuckled while you shook your head.

"Broken Heart" by Motion City Soundtrack flowed through the speakers of the car, and ironically, I smiled.

"Usually I would cry to this song, but I'm actually smiling. I can't believe it."

You glanced at me and insisted I was lying mad hard. Through out most of the drive, you kept your face forward, still shocked, still in the process of soaking in the information as I was.

The particular route you took was one I look forward to taking. You drove smoothly and swiftly, yet not hurriedly down the narrow curved roads passed the sparkling haunted lake, passed the isolated rural homes and small farms, passed the preservation marsh, and passed the towering trees.

I held my breath when I saw the sign that welcomed us to the beach and smiled. I knew that the beach was the perfect location at that given moment.

I dumped my bag on a pile of sand and sat next to it. While I stared straight ahead of me, you played with an empty beer bottle you found in the sand.

I listened to the crashing of the dull waves and to the laughter of the children, wishing I was one of them. I watched the waves ripple with the slight breeze I felt against my shoulders. I exhaled deeply, inhaled the salty breeze and flared my nostril as I did so. I was finally able to satisfy the hunger for the calm enviornment the beach provided.

I got up and barely put a toe in the water. I waited for it to come to me, and it was cold to the touch. I stared at the salty water beneath me and watched the shells slip away with the traveling waves and then tumbling sand. I began collecting shells of all sorts, and you helped me find the best ones. I spent the next few minutes splashing around and chasing the shells before they dissapeared into the waves.

I turned east and my attention was brought to the grey clouds being turned salmon. I looked in my cupped hands and realized that I had collected enough shells. I plopped back on the sand and helped you dig a hole to bury that empty beer bottle. I think you found a little crab and played with it until you thought it died. The sun was not yet setting, but it was getting late. I said goodbye to the peaceful turf and headed back to the car.

While driving down the road of beach houses, "The Fisherman's song" by Mae played, and I gazed out the window intently, listening and drinking the words that the song poured into my mind. I thought the song fit pretty well to the enviornment, seeing as it was about a man trying to "catch a fish" while another tried writing a song.
On the way home I watched the sun play hide and seek with me again, and smiling when I caught it. The closer I got home, the more depressed I became. At least I got to go somewhere and I thank you, for enabling me to run somewhere, and to you.