Letters in the Sand

   The tide was out and the sunset cast red hues on the shore. It had a subduing effect on the remaining denizens of the beach as they went about their routine of frolicking and relaxing in the sand.

It was a scorcher of a day, and the party had just began. So I lugged a six pack and took off on my  own, preferring to enjoy the view to the merry making of friends and colleagues.

As i walked, I passed through many writings in the sand. There were abandoned sandcastles too, in various stages of disrepair. Some of them have been deliberately stomped on by some uncaring passer by, oblivious to the fact that it was lovingly shaped by another hand. I figured it might be a reflection of life.

I sat down by a mound of sand,  grotesquely huge and shapeless, but with unmistakably feminine endowments. Probably thought of and crafted by a hand and mind of vulgar taste. There, I enjoyed the sunset, sorting out thoughts in this majestic tranquility, and littering the sand with empty cans of beer.

What urged people to write their missives on a temporary medium like sand? I saw hearts, names, figures, affectionate and profane thoughts. What made them sculpt images that would eventually wash out when the tide came in?

The constant lapping of the waves was making me drowsy, so I decided to wade on the water’s edge. And as I made my way back to my temporary lodging, there lay ahead the thoughts of people who have come before me lying like an endless welcoming carpet on the shore.

The lights were beginning to flicker in the distance, and the tide was coming in. Somehow, the urge to make my feelings known to this strange and beautiful beach was over powering.

I just had to be a part of this jumble of humanity who had to leave something behind to mark my passage. So I picked up a stick, and with a grand flourish, wrote the biggest letters i could muster. It was a grand outpouring of passion, of rage, of frustration, of tender and wishful thoughts. In this rare solitude, I just had to release this heaviness in my heart.

After that frenzied activity, I sat to consider my work, finishing what remained of the six pack. I noticed that the waves were gradually licking at the edges of my drunken masterpiece. There was still enough light so I hung around, long enough to see the waters inundate my message in the sand.

Then it was time to head back to friends and company and once more wrestle with competing  thoughts of what has been and will be.  I wish it were possible to permanently leave my mental and emotional baggages to the waves.

Maybe next time I'll swim out to sea and never look back again. Then I shall see the eternal vain missives written on every shoreline in the world, expressing common thoughts such as those I have written, for friends, family, for lovers, here and departed, forever remembered in the shifting sands of time.