Waves

It is dawn. I am standing in the arched passageway to The Great Room, looking in at the floorboards, which are swirling like the ocean, spiraling inward to the very center of the house. I see my two small daughters on the other side of the room. I approach them, and as I walk across the shifting slats, I see that I myself am a young girl. I continue. When the girls see me, they stop talking and look at me with wide eyes of concern. “What is it?” I implore with my expression.

“Shouldn’t you be off by now?” asks Langley with an uncharacteristic knit brow.

Suddenly, I have the feeling I’m going to be late for something terribly urgent. “Maybe…” I mumble, looking around the room.

“Come on,” says Mara motioning toward the front of the house. The girls clasp hands and walk across The Great Room to the entry, with my young self following a few yards behind. They lead me across the terrace, down the front steps, and toward the opening in the rock wall to the beach. The girls carefully remove their shoes and leave them on the wall. I leave my shoes as well and then follow them down to the water. Pointing into the crashing waves, Langley says: “It’s the quickest way to the center of town.” I peer into the roiling sea, then back at the girls.

Mara says: “Don’t be afraid, Mommy. You’ve been this way before.”

Not understanding, I walk out to the wet sand, soon ankle deep in the water and then waist deep, my dress floating up around me like a crepe paper flower. I realize that I am a young woman again. I turn back to look at Langley and Mara. I wave and they wave back without smiling. I wade out until my toes don’t touch the sand. I swim and float, and as I drift out further, I am more and more aware of the life beneath me - I can feel the water growing deeper and thicker, massive with life. And then the awareness that I can no longer tell where the water stops and my skin starts. I am being sewn in.

Suddenly, I’m freezing and choking. Things are going awry. I am being pulled out of the fabric of the ocean. I pry my eyes open and awaken to realize I was dreaming, only as a wave comes crashing toward me. I shoot forward and under the wave. I am in the water, but not too far out. When my toes reach and grasp the sand beneath me, I breathe deeply. It is dawn. After I catch my breath, I lie back and float, looking at the blush sky. Clouds are scarce and wispy, lit golden from behind. After a few minutes, I right myself and wade toward the beach. I am waist deep and my robe floats up around me like a crepe paper flower. I am freezing but calm. I can see my breath. My cheeks burn and my skin gleams blue; my fingers and toes, my nose and ears are numb, and my soaked robe hangs to the ground, skimming the sand as I walk. I step steadily toward the house - over the sand, through the small opening in the wall, across the lawn and then to the back terrace and through the french doors to our bedroom. I open the door slowly and peek in. Logan is still asleep. Stepping back out onto the terrace, I drop my robe in a soaking heap, water spreading out around it like bleeding dye. Trailing the heap is a long smear of water wiping out each of my footprints just seconds after they were left. I creep quietly across the room to the bathroom, silently pulling the door closed behind me. I pull the handle to fill the deep, cast bathtub with steaming water. I stare at the rising surface of the water, watching the liquid evaporate to steam as I shiver, waiting to climb in. After a few minutes, I step into the tub and lean over to pull the curtain open, letting in the early light. The wild turkey is in the grass, looking toward the woods. I watch her for a moment before carefully lowering myself into the tub, the hot water biting my numb skin like needles. I lie back and sink in, closing my eyes, half-wishing I was still in the ocean.