She had made it. She had made it through the pearly gates of heaven. It had been a long journey, but one well worth the wait. She could hear a beautiful singing, but it sounded so far away. It sounded like an angel. Only angels sang that way, the way a fine tuned piano sounded, crystal-clear and crisp. She had said this before, only an angel singing, could make you stop and wonder how anything sounded so radiantly magnificent.
Suddenly, she though she heard a sound, cautiously looking around her. There wasn’t an urgency about it, just a casual glance over her shoulder. She was reassured that she hadn’t seen anyone.
In the distance, she heard water, not like running water, but more like waves crashing down onto a sandy shore. This new sound did not hold the same vibrant intensity as the angel’s voice, this sound had a location. She graciously walked towards the sound of the water, as she continued to remain mesmerized by the voice of music. The singing angel was still all around her. It filled in the vacant gaps and holes that surrounded her, it was part of her; the breath she breathed, the air inside of her, and the blood running through her veins. The voice was a part of her.
The singing voice enveloped her, making her feel safe, peaceful and loved. Although, she was presently alone, she had an overwhelming feeling that she wasn’t alone. She felt a presence around her and inside of her. She felt no sadness, no guilt, no regret, and no pain. She just felt comfort and peace.
She felt the cool, soft sand squishing in between her toes. It felt nice to be walking on the beach barefoot. The sun was set right overhead with its resonating reds, intensifying oranges, and cheery yellows. The early afternoon was cool, even though the sun was so bright.
She smiled, allowing the warmth from the sun to penetrate seductively through her soul. Stars sparkled in the distance, amiably circling around the bright full moon. She watched as a shooting star shot across the sky, falling into the distance and into the crystalline, serene ocean waters.
She had to question this vision upon her. The vision of a night filled with its magical wonders, during the early morning hours of daylight. Surely, she must have been mistaken to question the vision, while standing before it with a clear mind, witnessing the phenomenon. It seemed right, but something in the back of her head created her to question it. She knew she had seen this before this day. The past had escaped her. She saw no future. All she had at this very moment was the present.
Giggling to herself, as the waves gently splashed up and around her ankles. The water was so invitingly warm. Silently standing there with her eyes closed, she enjoyed the moment, and it was a single moment in time. She wondered why human-beings could not find more time during their brief encounters on earth to take time out of their busy schedules to simply, and this is an understatement, live in the present moment. She viewed life as a gift, filled with these special occurrences, soul-seeking journeys. So many people she knew dwelled on only misery and pain, when there was so much more out there to enjoy.
Miracles happened every day; such as, a baby being born, a cured illness, and the simple act of waking up each morning. A singe gesture of touch could save a soul from desperation. A mother’s touch of kindness, as she kisses her son’s skinned knee. A father’s arms of protection, around a scared child who will not fall asleep, until all the closets and under the bed have been checked and cleared from the boogeyman living in the darkened shadows. A sister’s gesture, to share her most intimate secret with her best friend, her sister. These are the special moments in time that can not be bought. These are single events that make life worth living.
This was her favorite place. It had always been a place to find solitude. It was a quiet setting to reconnect with your heart and mind, a facade where dreams are promised. The ocean was one of life many miracles. It seemed funny to her now, ending up here, on the beach. This had always been the one niche in this big wide world, where she truly felt as if she belonged. She felt at home. She felt protected. Just like she felt now.
She was home. She had found her way back; amongst all the turbulent journeys, between all the difficult obstacles, she had found her way home.
Giggling, she threw herself down on the warm sand, lazily making a sand angel with the movement of her arms and legs across the soft sand’s surface. She had not made a sand angel, since she was a little girl. She found herself softly humming along with the singing voice. Was it a child’s voice, she wondered. On second thought, it was definitely a woman’s voice. Neither seemed right.
Closing her eyes, she heard seagulls flying overhead. She marveled at the idea of seeing the birds’ shadows in her mind’s eye. She heard once that some blind people only see shades of gray, without any detail. They can make out shadows of objects; however, they cannot clearly see details or color to these objects. This must be what it might be like to be going blind, she thought, watching the shadows.
Abruptly, the singing stopped. She waited with bated breath for the singing to start again, but she heard nothing, only silence. She knew it was time to go. She had reached the end of her journey. She was going home. The memory of the fire was fading from her memory. It had been such a terrible fire…she still smelt the smoke all around her, on her skin, her clothes, and in her hair. She did not need to open her eyes in order to see or remember the tragedy it had brought her, she knew.
Opening her eyes, she saw them. They were patiently waiting for her with opened arms. She was ready. Standing, she dusted the sand off her legs, arms, feet, and hands. The corners of her mouth turned up into a genuine smile, “I am ready.” She said, graciously walking towards those who she had kept safe in her memory. She was going home.
Copyright 2012 J.M. Fowler