Sea

I stepped outside my door, grabbing a sweater from the hook. I took small steps with what was left of the small ocean of tears drying in the cool wind on my face. I felt a walk was in order. It had been a rough day. I took longer strides when the beach came into view. Sand blew up around my ankles and I had to squint my eyes to see through the mess of dust, weeds, pollen, and sand. I kept my pace steady, heading for the water. My feet were bare, sinking small distances with every step forward. I reached the tongue of the sea, watched it lick the beach’s fingertips extending out into it. My feet became baptized; I was in a holy earth mosque, I washed my feet before prayer. I didn’t know to whom I was praying or if a plea was the same as a prayer, but I spoke, wrapped up in cotton and polyester and spandex mixed fabric.
“I know I can’t change things now, but is there any way I could have saved this? Saved him? If it is not too cliché, I would ask for a sign that I did or did not do something wrong.”
I gathered my sweater tighter around my shoulders and watched the stars a moment longer, looking for I don’t know what. I turned back, walking through the high grass and pebbles toward my sliding glass doors. I grabbed at the handle and tugged the stiff metal to the right, scraping sounded from where neglect had left the sliding mechanism rusted and resistant. I lifted my legs to step inside and noticed as the lack of sleep and fatigue of mind had weakened my muscles and slackened my bones. I shook off the sweater, leaving it lying on the floor, crawled into bed and laid my head on the pillow. As I closed my eyes, I was sure I saw a rabbit smiling at my door.