The Day at the Beach

The Day at the Beach

Everything is dark and humid and tight. There is a low rumbling sound coming from all around and the walls and the roof and the floor I’m lying on shake and shutter ever so often. I bounce with the motion of the floor and bump against something wicker and woven. After what seems like an eternity the noise ebbs and then stops, with one awful penultimate shudder as I suddenly fly towards one of the cool metal walls.

Then there was light. Bright and beautiful light that streamed in like cascading waterfalls of brightness and joy. I lay there, and saw clearly now the picnic basket beside me and the beach ball at my side. And I saw his face, bright and eager as he looked over the rim of the metallic mouth into the trunk where I lay. And ever so slightly behind him I saw another figure, obscured by the light, standing strong and tall behind him.

“Poppa! Poppa! Can I fly my kite now?” he asks with an excited high pitch peal of laughter from his throat.

“Yes. You may. Go over there, further along the shoreline. The wind will pick him up high there.”

His small clean hand reaches down and takes me firmly, yet comfortingly, eyes shining with anticipation and fun. We run down the sandy dunes, past the long flat grasses and the driftwood logs that lie scattered across the beach like bodies. His small feet kick up sand and shell alike as he ran faster and faster, holding me up so I can feel the air rushing over me already. I tremble, not from the breeze, but from excitement. This is it. Today I will fly. This is what I was made to do.

The Father holds me while he walks away slightly, strong hands positioning me just right for the breeze. He has the same twinkle in his grey eyes, the same as the boy. And then with a roaring laugh he calls for his son to run. He does, and as he does I feel the tug at my heart, where the string lies firmly, and I begin to go up.

I rise and rise and go higher and higher, a few twist and turns on my way there. I soar stronger and stronger, and then suddenly feel the winds catch me and I shoot up like a rocket. He woops down below and his father smiles proudly as they watch me climb into the skies. My sails taught and full I know this is what I was made to do.

“Careful son.” I hear him say. “Give him some slack on the line. If you don’t let him go where he wants to, he’ll be torn apart by the wind.”

“Like that Father?” he asks making some adjustments.

“Perfect. Now just make sure he doesn’t go further out over the water, otherwise he’ll get sucked into the storm.”

I have stopped listening to them down there. I’m flying and am going higher and higher as he gives me more line. I’m soaring like an eagle now, reaching to breach the veil of the cerulean heavens and see the stars. But as I climb and reach, I feel the string at my heart pull again. It’s the boy and his father. They’re trying to keep me back, stop me from doing everything I can. Angrily, I pull on the string, the boy remains steadfast. I pull more, frustrated and seething at my tether. Then it happened. The string snapped with a twang and I was free.

“My kite!”

“There, there son. Its alright. Hopefully it will fall down again. Go and gather its string until then.”

I no longer care to listen. I am flying. I am truly free. I can do anything I want. I climb higher and higher, past the first layer of clouds and into the vast kingdom of behemoth white monsters that soar past me. They change subtly and slowly, rolling and churning as I dodge and weave between them. I laugh as I think, this is why they kept me on the string, to stop me from seeing all this!

As I fly further and further out over the aquamarine waves capped in white, the cloud castle grow larger and larger, changing shades now from simply whites to all shades of grey and silver. The clouds begin to rumble and mumble as they speak to each other and to me. I soar on the zephyrs closer to them, to hear what they have to say.

But they are not truly my friends. They beat their rage against me and make me burden down and heavy with rain. As I sag lower and lower, their thunderous roars shake me and their bright bolts of anger break my once proud heart. And as I begin to fall from the sky, my once beautiful white sail smoldering and black, I stretch out and try to catch a breeze, but there is none to carry me. And so I fall into the cold sea, and drift through the cold currents.

My broken arms that held my sail so high, my broken heart with the small piece of string left on it, all go tumbling through the salty sea as darkness once again enfolds my face. Strange things pass past me, in me, and through me, but I can think about is the boy and his father and the sadness as they watched me fly away.

In my despair and anguish, I feel something rough scrape across my back. I open my eyes and see vaguely, the golden yellow sand that his young feet had once run across so briskly, kicking it up into the sky. Then, as the wave crashes me against it and runs me across it, I finally come to a stop. The water pulls back and here I lie. No breeze to take me no current to shake me. I lie and in my broken heart I cry.

And then I hear a cry.

“Poppa! Poppa! Look! Look over there! Its my kite! Its come back!”

I dare not hope. I dare not look. But as soft small hands pick me up, I do, and then I can barely stand my joy. They have found me! They have saved me! I’m going to be alright! I’m going home. As he picks me up, I see something I hadn’t seen before. His small hands have cuts on them. Cuts from where the string had been held when I had pulled away. As if reading my mind, he smiles at me and then his father before speaking.

“Poppa! I’m so glad my kite is back! I can’t wait to go back home and fix him! I have a new cross piece to place at his heart and I’ll paint him bright red. He’ll look as good as new!”

“Good my son. I’m so glad you got your kite back. When we get home we’ll get some ice cream to celebrate!”

And so I sit here, on his lap as I see the world pass by me in a blur, strange things I have never seen before. The car still shudders and shakes as we drive back, but I am content in my savior’s hands who holds me ever so gently as he and his father talk about all the things that await me at this place called home. I cannot help but smile, because once I was lost, but now I am found. Once I was dead, but now I am truly alive.