Dinner at Six

I feel an overwhelming warmth on my back. I’ve been sitting here for God knows how long. With each moment, it seems less likely that you’re going to show up. The heat is almost visible in the air. A bronze hue sits above the hills and reaches out to the sea. It all drips with nostalgia. The corroded train tracks wind away from me into the distance as I try balancing along the remains of the old station. My agility is much less impressive than I remember. The clock tower from the station is all that remains, but it is only correct one minute of every twelve hours. It looks as though nobody had bothered to visit this place in years.

Since the train stopped coming to our town a lot had changed, other than the weeds that sprout up through the tracks. The people from the city stopped coming to see the waterfalls and to picnic on the beach that sat below the cliffs. But oh man, I couldn’t be more thrilled about that. The cliffs are mine once again. They built the railway when I was six years old. Before that the cliffs and the beach below were empty. They practically raised us. Our parents would call after us as we’d run off across the fields - the grass coming up above our knees. They would tell us to be home before dark. We’d spend hours climbing around the cliffs. Exploring the rocky shore below, finding all sorts of things to fascinate our young minds. And looking out across the field now to the cliffside, I can see the spot where I took my first girlfriend. The sun was setting, creating a glow around her body. Illuminating each individual hair a golden brown. We sat perched there on the cliffside and that was when I had my first kiss. And then my second. And there was the little cave beside the cove where we’d bring all of the treasures we’d find on the beach. We spent hours in there hiding away from the rain. The world slowed, and the waves crashing into the rock seemed to fade into the background. We would take the time just to be.

The train stopped running five years ago, when I turned twenty-four. I feel like this is all no longer mine, following the parallel tracks around the bend in the station. It has been so long since we’d come here. And it took another few years just to feel like we could. The sun lowers in the sky, creating a pink hue beyond the cliffside and outlining every cloud in a brilliant mayan blue. The breeze of the late day works its way around the stalks of long grass and over to my bare legs. It tickes my leg hairs, giving me little goosebumps. It is windy for July, but it is the perfect temperature to feel present in my body.

While waiting for you I remember the nine years that have passed away from this place. So much had happened to both you and me. But now it feels as though everything we’ve been through together was trivial. It all leads back to where we started. On this cliffside where nothing has changed. It feels like we are six again and our parents are at home cooking while waiting for our return. I don’t know if you’ll even be here tonight. You left seven years ago, and me four. You went in search of the big city. You wanted more than our coastal town could give, and I didn’t want to be left behind. You were in search for some enlightenment and to feel free, if not swept up in the celebration of youth that the city wears with indifference.

But, this was a promise we made when we were younger. No matter what happened, to return here today. And here I am. Still waiting. As the sun begins to sink below the cliffside I start let all of that go. I am six again. Feeling the same breeze swirling around my ankles. Feeling the same awakening chill from the soft blue light of this hour. I pick up my worn body and run into the field. I feel all the stalks of grass tickling my legs, this time as they come up mid-calf. I run free, leaving everything in the abandoned train station. I close my eyes as I run toward the sliver of sun that remains, feeling you beside me shouting and giggling the whole way.