Sand

She returned to the ocean— to the sound of the waves to the misty breeze to the taste of salt and the cackle of gulls— to all she’s ever known. She sat down in the sand, felt it between her fingers, its coarse grains rubbing against her soft hands, a feeling of simple familiarity. She slowly began to dig, First sliding away the soft Cover of white, Casually pretending herself That she couldn’t possibly Believe it was there. But then she really began to dig, with more fury, strength, and desperation, using her fingernails to tug away the now dark, went sand, no kidding herself now. She had to find it, She told herself, For she had nothing left, It had to be here. So she dug and dug Until the sun began to set And her fingers began to ache. She fell back in exhaustion, Next to her hole in the ground, And breathed deeply As tears streamed down her face, Drowned in utter defeat. She sadly laughed, Not believing she actually fooled Herself into thinking She could find it there, Buried in the sand. The maroon rays of the sunset Put a film of red and warmth About her closed eyes, She felt the tide come up And touch the edge of her toes. She lay there, In silence, In the sand, And she began to remember. She could feel the waves crashing Against her one-piece, Felt her father’s hand in hers As they jumped over the waves, And could hear her piercing 5-year-old scream. She could hear her brother’s laugh And the chuckle of her grandfather at the edge of the water, Sitting in his beach chair with his straw hat. She could hear her mother yelling out the screen door To come for lunch And could see her father’s wink for a few more waves. She smiled to herself, Got up and pushed the sand Back in the hole. She found what she had been looking for, She found herself there in the sand.