Hands

The sand rolled and tumbled over her light pink nails as her toes crunched and straightened, digging themselves deeper into the warm, brown-sugar tinted grains. The slightly tightened, sun-kissed skin of her cheek rested on her knee as her arms wrapped around her long, ocean sprayed legs.

The salty wind was slightly chilled, lacking the warmth of the late day sun. It collided with the oversized, light-weight navy sweatshirt she’d thrown on before heading out into the muted pastel morning light. A tear tumbled down the frame of her face, and her hand came up instinctively to rub it away, the cuff of her sleeve absorbing the moisture.

The waves seemed to respect her heavy heart and remained calm, gently rolling in towards land and kissing the shoreline before, with a slight gurgle, retreating into the grays and blues of the deeper waters.

Her breath caught in her throat as the emotions from the night before bubbled up to the surface, and she let out a stifled sob. Slamming her eyes shut as tight as they would allow, she tried to force herself back in time. She re-created the perfect memory piece by piece; standing in this spot, the same logs grouped behind her amid a bonfire pit. Instead of sitting cold as they were now, they were smoldering and crackling in the heat of the dancing fire.

The same wooden pier was to her right, except instead of standing as an empty silhouette in the distance, it was milling with beachgoers gathered to watch the vibrant pinks, oranges, and reds of the sunset.

Things spun in her mind and everything was the same except for the hands. His hands. In that time, his rough, sturdy hands had found her face effortlessly. He had just set her back down into the sand after swooping her bikini-clad body in his arms. He’d rushed her towards the ocean as her giggles and squirms of resistance did little good to stop his forward momentum. His deep, full laugh filled her ears as the waves leaped upwards, surrounding his feet, his legs, his nerdy yellow swim trunks adorned with cactus in sunglasses, and eventually hitting his abdomen, her waist, and feet. After the salty waves had cooled them down and her feet had hit the warm sand again, her fingers mindlessly played with the black, damp hair right above the nape of his neck. His hands were on her face, brushing a stray strand of windblown hair from her cheek and then cupping her chin, acting as a magnet, pulling her body towards his. His lips brushed past hers; she could feel his smile as the words exhaled from them both at the same time - as if at this moment there was nothing else to do but say it- “I love you.”

A seagull’s call broke her out of the memories of her moment in the sun, and she found herself alone again. She rested her head on her arms in front of her and watched the sun’s rays spill over the horizon line, letting the tears fall without being caught.

Then a hand gently rested on her shoulder.