No words

He sat, staring at the blank page, the whiteness of the crisp paper mocking him as the words refused to flow from the pen in his hand. He wished he had started earlier, maybe if he had journaled his feelings and emotions earlier they would flow more easily now, but instead, it seemed a near-impossible feat; to let the words trickle out into the little black book in front of him.

He looked up, stared out the open window at the ocean beyond. He watched as small waves rippled onto the shore and the sound of rocks tumbling among it lingered long enough to be overwritten by the next wave taking its place. His mind wandered, remembering times spent on that beach and so many others like it. Their life had been so intertwined with the ocean that he could barely remember a time when it wasn’t their home. Saltwater all but ran through their veins… it was the fabric that had connected a disjointed lifetime together. All of the happiest times and with them all of the saddest; they each came either on or around the sea.

He could remember the first time they drove south along the pacific coast together. Stopping to peer over the cliffs together and allowing the wind to comb through their hair as it headed inland and took its cold dampness with it toward the mountains. He could remember the first time they paddled out into warmer waters with masks and fins, staring at the magical scenes unfolding in the water beneath them, and forever changing their dreams and imaginations. He could even remember both the excitement and the fears the first time they set out together on the boat they had made their floating home and attempted to raise the sail, neither of them knowing the least about how to propel the boat forward with it, but also feeling like giddy schoolchildren overcome with wonder and excitement at the very idea.  

They had decided together some time ago that the sea was calling to them; that it was in their stars to sail upon the ocean despite never having done so before and they spent years battling the fears and unknowns to live the dream life they had imagined there. He could remember every blissfully calm moment they had spent sailing quietly from one remote tropical island to the next, but he also knew all too well that each one was entwined with fear, with anxiety and even heartbreak/sorrow as their years had seen all of the above.

He knew he owed each and every memory to her. Without her, he would never have been able to find the confidence to break away from the norm. To separate his life from the known and secure life he’d been told how to live. She was the lighthearted and free spirit that led him away from the job he hated, coaxed him to leave it all behind in search of nothing more than happiness and the promise of seeing and experiencing new things. She was the siren whose song guided him towards the sea and the freedom that came with it.  

He could remember the fear and terror he felt when she first suggested leaving. Her plan seemed so absurd. To quit the world and run away without a plan and without the savings that would most certainly be required to return. “Leap and the net will appear,” she used to chant to lessen his fears. He knew hope wasn’t a plan of merit yet he wanted so badly to see the world through her eyes that we would have risked everything to follow her into even certain failure.  

He also remembered well the first time he began to relax… when he first forgot for a moment about the stresses of money and expectations and status quo. The first time he was truly able to sit with her and stare out at that horizon and think of nothing but the perfect day they had just shared and of the untold possibilities in the days to come. He remembered the first time they ran out of money. It would happen more than once and was a day that would have truly shaken his old self to the core; but now simply a chance for more creative endeavors, to once again recreate themselves and reimagine their future. They would live in moments of squalor but they would also enjoy moments of complete abundance. Both spans richer for having experienced the other.

He could draw the paths that they had traveled together on the map. The countless roads driven and borders crossed, the islands they had explored, and the waters they had swum in naked and alone over the years. He could picture the moonlit nights that they sailed to destinations they previously never knew existed, and the countless sunsets they had watched together as if with one set of eyes. Each memory a magical journey, and each one could fill the pages of the empty notebook in front of him.

Yet, here he sat. Staring at the emptiness despite more reasons now to write those words than ever before. He had just been given a book advance to tell their story to the world. To share the inspiration and path that took them along the road less traveled. He now had 20,000 reasons to let the words spill out onto the page… but nothing came to him. There was no beginning and no end. There was no way to describe in mere words the love they had shared, the adventures they had set out upon or how truly grateful he was for every single second that had passed since she convinced him to run away and chase their wildest dreams.

He had told this story 1000 times. He had described it in every vivid colorful detail and watched as those listening hung on every word. He had used far more words than required to fill the pages of the book he was now paid to write; but each time he began to place the tip of the pen against the fibers of the page it seemed empty, hollow, somehow paling in comparison to the actual adventures or connection that they shared.

Since their first moment, they were complete opposites in every way. It didn’t make for easy work, but the easy trail rarely leads to the perfect vista. Somehow over the years, their differences made them into a better whole. They had eroded together like a pebble stuck in the ironshore, and the wind and waves and time had worn their bodies together; not into one but into two parts of a whole that fit together better than apart. She was the perfect yin to his yang. Together, there was nothing they couldn’t do, or learn or conquer because together failure didn’t matter. Failure and mistakes merely a step in the journey as much as each success and celebration.


He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what was next. To conceive of what could possibly add to their happiness, to enhance the story, and what goal or adventure could top the life they had already shared. Once again he was awash with images of what had already been and took great solace in the deep knowledge that he now truly wanted for nothing. He had lived the life of his dreams, of their dreams, and they had done it while young enough to truly embrace and enjoy it fully while their bodies would allow and while they could do so together. Nothing was lacking and nothing left to gain other than savoring every single second of each and every day. Committing each sunrise and sunset to memory, finally able to realize that while he wasn’t ready to be done with this world… that at least he knew that when that time came he could do so without a single regret.  

They for years had committed to each other to live each day as though it was the last, and to make every decision for happiness only. They threw caution and money and logic to the wind. They learned long ago that paychecks and things purchased with them actually led further away from happiness instead of closer to it. He now knew that happiness wasn’t found there and took great pride in not having to allow it any place at the table when it came to writing their journey.

But now, here he was, tasked with writing their story - and it seemed an almost impossible endeavor. He tried to picture the audience that he was writing to. The young souls he hoped he could save from the decades of misery behind a desk or in front of a screen, all for the ability to fill their homes with more useless stuff. He thought of those who dreamed of more, who simply needed to know that someone had gone before them and lived to tell the tale. He knew they (much like he did before) needed to know that someone, anyone had gone forward into the world seeking only happiness and that it brought with it immense riches and joys and was worth every step of the journey. That alone was worth telling this story and he was thrilled at the chance to do so regardless of any paycheck at the end.

But despite it all… the page remained dry. He caught himself trying to describe the countless colors of blue in the ocean as the sun lowered itself toward the horizon. His mind danced at the images of the creatures stirring just beneath as the blues began to give way to the warmer hues reflecting back at the suns fading glow. His mind flickered through pages of images and videos that reminded him of all the moments as if he was reliving each again and again… yet as he looked down the page it still sat completely bare, like the sand of the beach before they marked it with their footsteps as they wandered hand in hand earlier that day.  

He knew that in order to cash that check he needed only to fill the notebook. He needed to once again tell the story he had repeated countless times. To somehow find words that could match the life and the love that they had known. Yet somehow it all felt simply…empty. As empty as the page he’d been staring at for the last several hours.

Words he knew couldn’t capture the moments, couldn’t paint the picture, would always fall short of the reality he had seen through her eyes. He grabbed the glass of wine still sitting untouched beside him. He sipped and closed his eyes for a long moment to breathe in the ocean air and savor the flavors as they washed over his tongue. He grabbed the pen once again and almost before opening his eyes he wrote the first words on the page and then stood to walk to the doorway.

On deck, his eyes fixed on the sun as it came finally in touch with the horizon and as its shape began to melt into the ocean, and then he wrapped his body around hers and nestled his face into her neck as they watched the colors change slowly together. No words were needed as she spun her head around and found his lips with hers. He chuckled almost imperceptibly as he focused on the lack of space between their bodies and he wished he would have decided to join her hours ago.

He knew that she would laugh when she finally found the check ripped into pieces on the table beside his notebook. She never cared about the money nor about telling the story. She cared only about living it, about soaking in each moment and staring at the sea and about absorbing the warmth of that sun before it disappeared again for the day.

He held her close as if trying to draw out the sunset, to draw out time itself and he thought about the words he had written just before rising from the table. The only words that would fill that notebook and the only ones worthy of being written on the topic.

"The riches lie not in the destination… but in the journey".