A Wishful Journey

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My writings consist of the innermost feelings and thoughts at the time of their conception. I long for a certain lifestyle, and know it's within reach, but until then...

Submitted: March 23, 2012

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Submitted: March 23, 2012

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I’ve always found comforting the sound of the waves crashing along the shore with the echo of seagulls in the background. The smell (and taste) of the salty air, the contrast of soft sand and hard plank wood beneath my feet, always created a sense of calmness and serenity. I would watch the water, observing roll after roll of white foamy hills rolling in from the distance, and wonder where the journey began for each particular wave, but knowing full well, it ended as their mere existence swept over the tops of my feet. As the water recedes back into the vast puddle it originated from, that particular wave now spawns a new life, and begins a new journey.

I’ve always dreamed of living by the ocean. The romanticist in me demands it. Long walks, hand in hand on the beach, silhouetted by the glow of a beaming moon while being serenaded by the musical charade of sea birds and water crashes. Casual morning coffee on the porch overlooking Mother Nature’s vast creation of the unknown, laughing and swaying with the never ending ocean breeze. A lazy day on a boat, at the mercy of not only the love of a woman, but the intimidating depth of what lie beneath me.

Passionate kisses, caressing and lovemaking, all the while tasting the lingering salt acquired from the generous sea air. In each others eyes, we are the center of the universe, where the outside world does not exist. The overwhelming sense of belonging and neediness creates an unidentifiable strength of togetherness which conquers all the world will throw at us. If life came with background music, “Chances Are” from the movie “Hope Floats” would constantly be playing in the background. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hl7LdevJ71c).

However, dreams are contradictory. Some say that dreams can be interpreted, with a specific meaning or relevance to certain circumstantial life events. Nonetheless, dreams are a picture, either real or unreal, to interpret the minds subconscious thoughts and innermost feelings. Although the dream of living on the ocean, forever feeling the magnitude and generosity of an endless and fulfilling love is and can be realistic, another dream makes it seem so far away.

It starts as a little boy…disembarking a ship from a long and tumultuous travel. About the age of ten, he gets off the boat and feels completely lost and abandoned. In a crowd of grown-ups hustling to reach their destination, he is constantly pushed and shoved aside, completely ignored and neglected. As purposefully as this boy walks amongst the crowd, not a person looks back. With each push and shove, no care is shown and ignorance rules the day. Suddenly, a hand is extended. Manicured fingernails; soft, velvety textured skin, embellished with a glimmer of lotion, reaches out to offer care, compassion and strength. Reaching up and grasping the hand firmly, he notices a ponytail, protruding from under the rim of an over-sized summer hat. The air of perfume was intoxicating and the click of her heels on the plank wood became hypnotizing. “Why are you helping me?”, he asked, not fully expecting an answer. They walked for several more minutes, before she stopped, and without turning around said, “Because I love you!”. Once out of the crowd, she released his hand, then started to walk away. As he stared in disbelief, she turned around and again said, “Because I love you!”. It wasn’t the words she said that startled him the most, but what he didn’t see. The woman had no face. That same scenario would happen over and over again, as the boy grew in age. Countless life circumstances, numerous situations where love was thought to have been found, only to finally see the person with no face.

I interpret that dream as a portal of self-inflicted expectations. A heart void of completeness and fulfillment, but is that at my own doing? Have I, over the course of my life, created a false interpretation of what love is, or is the romanticist within me only demanding more. A desire to be loved, wanted and needed that is stronger than that of what is actually realistic and capable to expect from another human being! Regardless of who has or had my heart over the course of my life, are my expectations creating those “face-less” people? Shakespeare once said, “Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares!” How ironic his words are, with a sense of accuracy and defining clarity as well.

The waves still continue to roll in, extracted by the gravitational pull of the moon up above. The seagulls, scavengers by nature, watch your every move, waiting for that last morsel to be tossed into the fray of hungry beaks. The boats still dance, their lights on the dark horizon flickering like fireflies in a summertime cornfield. And the breeze still blows, gently coating a thin salty layer across my lips. Still wandering, amongst face-less people, I begin humming “Chances Are” and find myself stuck on one lyric..”All the rules of logic don’t apply…”.

So the journey continues, longing for that waterfront living, surrounded by nature, sand between the toes and salty air ambience, and all that I’ve imagined it to be. Like the wave before, and the wave after…the journey starts and ends as it washes over my feet….


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