August 11, 2011

"The Girl With the Birdcage"

I see her sometimes, standing there looking down through the ocean fog at the water's depths. In her right hand she always holds an empty birdcage. Never is it sunny outside when she stands there, always grey, cloudy skies, the fog, and a cool breeze blowing across the shore. Something attracts her to that spot just as I cannot live without my spot further down on the sand.

Why does she carry the cage with her? Is she waiting for someone? Years pass and she still goes there…as do I. From eight years old…we both age through our teens. One day, I get the courage to walk over to her. She turns to me and stares. Her eyes are the strangest yet most beautiful ones I have ever seen. Blue with golden flecks in them yet as you travel their depths you notice the faint purple ring around them.

"Callie," she whispered.

"Jason," I murmured back. She turned and hopped off the rocks. I watched her retreating form into the fog.

Two more years passed until our next interaction. We simply stood there holding hands. I let go and walked off. She stared after me. Her appearance changed too. Her pink dress was soon replaced with tight jeans and colored tees. Her feet were always bare despite the cool air. Some days we were apart and I just sketched her. Other we sat there looking out at the endless water, the birdcage resting in the sand. Some days we talked, others we were silent.

One day she grabbed my face and kissed me. From that day on our relationship became deeper and deeper. We never ventured far from the beach though. As the years flew by we grew older. Her long brown locks stayed the same for years. My short sandy hair began to turn grey far before hers did. Never once did we talk of getting married though.

Our love was a different kind, one that was anchored here at this place on the beach. I never took her out to a fancy dinner or a movie. We knew the important parts of our relationship.

School was never an issue for us. I was an artist and she a writer. Our muses molded with the crisp sea air and feel of the sand beneath our toes. Many asked why I never dated or married. I told them that there was someone special in my life. She never mentioned any other guy and I never another girl.

Every cloudy day we met there. We collected stones, starfish, sand dollars, and all sorts of other things that washed up on the shore. They built up by the rocks. As our collection grew, so did our grey hairs. Even in our old age we ventured out to our spot. The birdcage sat weathering in the sand year after year. Some say I'm a crazy old man to have wandered the beach in my age.

One day I sat on our rock after 75 years of walking out there. I was 83 years old. I waited and waited and waited for her to show up. She never did. That was the day she died. In my pocket that day I had an engagement ring. I was getting too bloody old to be walking out there almost everyday. And it was about time she and I got married. There were tears in my eyes and oh did I cry. I loved that woman like no other. Every single ay until the day I died I walked out there and talked to her. She listened…she was always a good listener. I took that last walk with a nurse from my nursing home. She thought I was crazy but listened to my story and as I finished I put that diamond engagement ring in that old birdcage. I told her to "take me home its meatloaf tonight." Well when I got back to my room at the home I laid down to take a nap after saying hello to everyone in the home. That afternoon I died with not a single regret in my mind. After all, I had a whole eternity to spend with her on some beach in heaven.

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