Beauty Seen is Never Lost

Fragments of somebody else’s memory


Nothing is heard except the loud roars of the sea, slamming into the metal boards in a slow patterned rhythm. The people are peacefully asleep on thin mattresses under their shacks, which are made of bits and pieces. The sound of the roars is piercing through their dreams every now and then. The darkness devours every little life evident there. No insects. No lights. No-thing.
Until the dawn breaks.
They all wake up. The men head to sea while the women sweep around what mustn’t be swept. As they sweep the sand off the ground, the wind brings back another grain of sand.
On that same shore, far away from the women’s chatter, there is a little boy.
The little boy stands on the golden sand; his feet immersed deeply into it, as the water tickle his toes, reviving them back to life.
He is waiting and waiting, Hours pass. And he’s still waiting. The burning sun rose high now. He’s still waiting.
He finally catches a glimpse of the men’s boat returning back to shore. The shadow of his brother hardly seen, yet still visible.
He smiles. And starts calling his brother’s name on top of his lungs, just maybe if he yelled loud enough, he might hear him and come faster.
His brother finally came off the boat, running towards the boy with an excited grin on his face. The brother starts filling him with the events of the morning fishing trip. What kind of fish they got and how the adults allowed him to fish this time.
Of course being two years older, the brother was allowed on the fishing trips, while the little boy was only allowed to enjoy them through the brother’s tales.
They walk back together. One chattering and the other intently listening.
The brother has an idea. He drags the little boy to a place a bit far from the shore where many pieces of metallic boards lay. They sat down on the sand and the brother grabbed one of the metallic boards. He then grabbed a large rock and started thrashing the board sides with it until it turned into an unmistakable twist. He continued hammering the rock on the sides of the board, making it look like a large pot. The little boy watches, unblinking, afraid to miss anything. When he was done, the brother turned to the little boy with a huge smile on his face, pointing to his creation.
And then he said “let’s go fishing, in your new boat”
The little boy couldn’t believe his eyes. He got up immediately and rounded the boat over and over again. Checking every little side of it, making sure that it was really a “boat”.
The brother started to push the boat toward the water and the little boy, overwhelmed with excitement, followed.
His happiness was beyond the brother expectations.
As soon as the brother pushed the boat into the water, the little boy hopped on.
The metallic boat slowly started to drown, as the little boy tried to balance on it.
The little boy fell into the water and the boat, freed from the boy’s weight, floated back to the surface. The little boy got out of the water, laughing his heart out at what just happened.
The brother, seeing the little boy’s reaction, laughed too.
They kept laughing as they retreated back to their shacks, wet yet happy and content.

The 9-years old boy is now, a 51 years old father, whose memory of that day is still vivid as yesterday.

Posted by Diddlina at 10:32 AM 2 comments