Harbor

There she stays on the small rocky island in the harbor, only big enough for patches of weeds, a large pine that stands taller and wider than the other few, and when the tide is low, there is enough room for a small boat and traveler to rest. She does not travel far to replenish, for the waters are usually calm and attract small boats or open water swimmers, lucky for her there is an island for them to rest on. Vulnerable and exhausted minds travel by sail boats, kayaks, or an open water swim to the island that calls them in. As they come ashore, a calm transition begins. Pulling and heaviness, she dissolves them, she absorbs them. Now calm and resting, their energy is gone and never to be seen again in the same shell of a person, only in she who is the island.

*

The chaotic and draining life of the city has created a loss of identity in Ada. She took to the family coastal property in East Boothbay, Maine on her own to resolve the confusion. Driving East on Ocean Point Road, the old house with aged gray cedar siding sits on the right, down a small drive with the harbor in the view. Her family usually communicates when they plan to travel to their home, as they are friends with the neighbors, the Dagon’s. Mr. Dagon comes out the front door to see who is arriving unexpectedly, and says “Hello”, to Ada and questions why she did not warn them that she was coming. “Warn?”, Ada questions. “Why does my presence in my own family house need a warning?” she thought. He seems drained, lacking life in his appearance. “It’s just, well, we do not really have to worry about traffic coming through this time of year. Fall is the off season for vacationers, and well it gives us time to breath.”, says Mr. Dagon. Chills rise on Ada’s neck, “I won’t be a bother, just coming for some rest away from the city. The water is really peaceful”. Mr. Dagon begins walking towards her abruptly then stops on a dime, “I wouldn’t be going in, it’s quite a chill out there”.

*

After a few days full of unpacking, settling, and mundane activities Ada’s muscle memory of her normal routine begins to make her stir, cooped up in a house. Outside on the deck she sits and looks out onto the harbor through the thick fog, she notices a high tide, missing most of the small island from the day before, it seems to be drowning, lungs filling. Gasp after gasp, Ada’s breathing quickens, and she rushes inside. She thinks, it must be the fog, the humidity must be messing with her. Inside, the smell of the saltwater still sticks to her, inside her nose. It is a nostalgic smell, a comforting smell, yet from the nature of salt, drying.

*

Window open on a crisp fall night, to be snuggled up and piled with blankets in bed, “Ada”, “Ada”, whispered in the crisp air. “I know”, said Ada now waking up and heading outside hours before sunrise. Low tide now, Ada walked down the wooden steps to the small rocky beach and sat, listening. Small waves rock into the rocks on the island and roll up on the shore, Ada notices the empty spaces being hit and filled. Spaces created by the constant crashing, eroded away. “I can hear the empty spaces, not empty by choice “, Ada thought. “Careful”, a loud shaky voice next door startles Ada, “She’s acting up today”, said Mr. Dagon.

*

After hours of sitting, the sun has just begin peaking through, she has taken over now. Ada begins to slowly walk into the water, wanting to not be empty and to be filled by the waves crashing. A long swim, does not seem like too much of a struggle, just make it to the island. Crawling onto the island, Ada begins sinking in the Earth, fighting to reach the tree, and wins. There, she meets her, slowly dissolving, Ada begins to panic and fight, but fades to quick into the tranquility. A misty figure of blue and gray, black beaty eyes, and the smell of rot from water, a deep breath, “Ada”, whispered while absorbing and consuming. The shell once known is gone, and Ada within she. Never seen again.