Down to the Shore



I put a seashell to my ear and it all comes back…

Socrates squinted in the Sun.   The sea soaked, salty air blew past his face.  He dropped the seashell onto the sand.

“Hey, I was thinking we should go into town next. We should change our clothes, walk the streets, and find a local place to eat.  What do you think?”

Simone didn’t reply. He rolled over to look at her.  She had fallen asleep under the shade of the umbrella.  Sitting on his elbows, with beads of sweat rolling down his sides, he watched her.  The palms of a nearby tree slowly separated in the breeze;  passersby moved in slow motion.  Looking at her face, he watched her sleep. Cataloging all of her details, he thought to himself, I love the look of your face.  At rest. No cares. Your eyelids closed.  Your soul appearing at peace – just for a little while.  Someone who has always been just a little restless for as long as I’ve known you.  

The breeze blew by them, blowing the ends of the blanket out of the bag and her hair into her face.  He reached over, caressed her face and moved her hair to the side.  I love the look of your face when you are laughing.  Your face buried in your arms with tears at the corners of your eyes.  Laughing at some corny joke I told you just to see you laugh, to see you smile.  I see enjoyment in your soul and it refills mine.  A moment simple in construction.  A moment to forget about the stress of the ordinary, routine, and the mundane.

Stirred by the touch of his hand, her eyes slowly parted.  Her eyelids raised to half mast.  I love the look of your face when you are upset.  When the volcanoes are erupting.  I can show you that we’ll make it past any issues.  I could walk you around the world on descriptive prose or imaginative metaphors. Hold you with an image of the genesis of two made one.  Argue and arrive at the resolution together… THAT IT! That it ain’t big enough to separate two.  Or enjoy a lazy Nawlins evenin’ drawn with intricately wrought light poles and park benches.  Much more than skin deep can bring.

She smiled at him and said, “I think I fell asleep.”  He smiled back at her and said, “I love the look of your face.”  Always will.

Some fairy tale stories and endings are good for us.  The next time you find yourself on a beach and you come across a seashell, pick it up and listen to it.  Not only can you hear the ocean, but you can sometimes hear the theme music for fairy tales.  Seashells collect the good times in our lives that we sometimes lose sight of through the ordinary repetition of our daily life.

Keep some small seashells in your pockets as reminders of the good things that have happened in your life.

by malakhai jones
(c) Copyright 2016.

image credit:  My own

Seashells in Your Pockets
Down to the Shore
Read the entire story here


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