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Jun 2019
The best part(s) about living in a house on the beach:

Sand is everywhere. You see it on your dilapidated bay walk you built the week after you moved in. It's in your shoes, your shirt, sand is everywhere.

You'd hear the rhythm of the ocean in the middle of the night, waves knocking like lullabies that were clearly meant to keep you awake but failed. You smell and taste salty mist in your mouth whenever you'd strut outside every single day for the past 3 years. It's unlimited sand castles and sand kingdoms.

You'd see how the moon lends it light to the sea, creating a white walkway on the dark waters whenever you stay up late simply because you couldn't sleep, and in the morning you'd see a canvass of colors as mother sun claims her domain, showing off shades of pink, orange and yellow scarves, God, I love living by the sea.

Most of all, you love waking up to the sound of her footsteps, how she'd open all the windows, let light into the room and sing goodmorning. You love the way she runs to that old bay walk and sits down, you love the way she dangles her feet and tease the waters with her touch. You love the fact that this is, has been, and will always be your dream. You and her.

Life often feels like that, but trust me, life finds a way to ***** things up. A balance, if you will.

You see, when someone tells you they live by the sea, it isn't all that perfect.

No one tells you about the first time it rained so hard, the waters caved around, under and above your home that it shook. No one tells you how often the waves are loud and menacing, you dream about how they loom over your home, or how unnaturally silent they are that you can't fall asleep without them whispering in your ears, singing to you in their rhythm.

No one tells you about the time some people get left behind with their dreams.

That of the two names carved on that bay walk, only one person was cursed to sit there and remember.
No one tells you about the time she slowly became sick of the sea and talked about moving back to the city. No one tells you about the time she took off in the middle of the night and you pretended to be asleep. No one tells you about the first time you opened your windows in the morning, felt the color was more grey than orange, and your mouth tasted like her strawberry flavored lip gloss even though you only smell salt.

It's writing both your names in sand and leaving them to get swept by the sea or blown by the wind. It's crying as you skinny dip so the sea can take away your sadness. It's shouting while the waves roar. It's sand everywhere. Sand and sea she left you.

Sad how there's been more storms in your heart and rain in your eyes than outside your home these past years.
I miss free writing
Francisco III
Written by
Francisco III  19/M/Philippines
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