I found this piece in some old journal writing from September 17, 2016. I remember the night I wrote it, sitting on the sand across from an apartment that I adored on the beach. I wish I could go back there. I wish I could go back then.
I wish I could capture the view from where I am and share it with you. The harvest moon is beaming down behind me, illuminating the beach, made wider by the low tide. The powder white sand is almost luminescent under the bright light and there isn’t a soul in either direction. I can tell the tide is on its way back in. The waves are louder, more aggressive in their break.
There’s a cloud bank trying to move in from from offshore. It’s a little disorganized, like me, but still managing to show off a brilliant lightning bolt every few moments. For the next few minutes I’ll still be able to make out the stars as they hang in the sky. Perhaps one will fall and give me something to wish on.
The breeze coming off the water is the perfect combatant for the humidity and the heat. It is utterly perfect out here. The seagulls and the pipers do their part to make sure I’m not sleeping while I sit here, eyes closed, listening to the waves break on the shore, music playing lightly out of my phone’s speaker. I have taken nights like these for granted the last three years. I should have done this more often.
Here come the drunk tourists for their nightly walk. They pause in front of me and I wish you were here with me to laugh at them, to drink this bottle of wine, to talk to me about everything, and talk to me about nothing. Part of me is glad you aren’t. I’ve done well this week in spite of your absence. I feel it, but I know I’ll be okay. I know I’ll never need you again just to spite you, but I also know it doesn’t matter. I’m as insignificant to you as the sand I’ll brush from my feet when I walk home. I’m glad you aren’t here to make me feel so little and small.
The clouds are beginning to break around me and the moon is climbing higher in the sky, its bright light obscuring the stars I’m so intent on making sense of. All I can make out are Neptune and Vega. Pegasus, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Hercules…they’re all hidden by the moon’s brightness tonight. I’ll have to remind myself that they’re there, still shining just as brightly, even when I can’t see them.