Today I am in desperate need of some serious beach therapy. Today’s session though is different, I need it to be different. Today is not the typical session scheduled with dimple revealing laughter, inside jokes with friends, stories from long ago with family or beach favs like a bonfire at sunset alongside toasty ooey-gooey s’mores.
Today doesn’t consist of building sand castles, jammin’ to some sunshine tunes, flippin’ through the salty waves or walking into the sunsetting sands while collecting sea shells.
Today I am singular in my company hoping that I will find myself sitting next to your ghost. I need to chat… I need to vent… I need your sage advice.
Upon the warm sand I sit with a coffee in hand and blue tunes soaking into my eardrums. Around my skinny freckled neck hangs your dog tag from your Navy days. This oval stamped piece of metal keeps me company during the chaotic sun.
Caught in a daze of the waves crashing in and out keep me lost in my thoughts. I’d like to tell you that I am ok and that everything is fine, however, I’d be lying. Lie to myself to deal with my life, sure. Lie to you, never.
While everything appears fabulous on the outside, I can’t escape from this gnawing sensation that a storm is on the horizon. And not just any storm, but rather the big bad wolf type of storm. This stitched ticker of mine fears no concern, for after everything it has endured, pain is truly a force that can be beat. However, this twisted mind of mine senses that this storm is an old familiar enemy, no good will come from this. My gut has no stabbing sensation, there for no sirens have blarred.
In my gut I will trust because my mind and heart tend to go round after round with one another.
A ringing in my ear drones through, the tone of your calming voice seeps into my pulsating brain. If your ghostly lips could speak, they’d advise me to have patience. “Stay calm and breathe. If something wicked is coming this way, then you’ll feel it deep down in your gut. You’ll know, so stop fretting about what you have no control over. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Get out of your head and focus on the tasks at hand. Breathe.”
I am also struggling with an unfamiliar feeling, giant butterflies who’s wings created a tornado inside. A coward is what I am resembling, racking my brain to figure out what I should do. Take a chance or cage these butterflies and let this go. I know that if you were here you’d tell me to take a chance. That the unanswered question is the one that never leaves your brain or gut. But, you’re not here and alone I am in this internal battle.
October marks ten years since you’ve been gone. My heart wishes that you still lived here on earth. Selfish, I know. So, until you and I meet again, I’ll make do with these beach therapy sessions. I’ll find comfort sitting here sippin’ on this coffee, listening to these blue tunes and enjoying your ghostly company as the sun sets into its twelve hour graveyard.
“You can’t catch a falling star, it would burn up the atmosphere…” – Spencer Reid