Sand
By Kayla Blue
The wheels rolled and clacked against the asphalt, hitting every small bump on the way to the end of the road. She felt like she was flying. The joy between them soared, dancing and twirling like freshly fallen petals in a gust. Only they know the rules of the game they played, the tightly locked secret blurring the lines as they forgot small decisions. The street was their world, a supervised playground for weekends and afternoons. The house was hesitant to invite her in, but she saw the warm sunshine covering her hands as a white spotted butterfly flew past.
The two raced across the yard while the adults stood in the front and spoke with hands on hips and light conversation. They tied their races again and again, a winner never decided. The conversation between the parents slowed, and the children were called over to pile in the car. Giddy with excitement, they bolted to the car both yelling “Shotgun!”.
“Okay okay settle down,” “It’s definitely her turn in the front, young man.” He smiled.
The little boy groaned in defeat and sulked into the back seat of the car. A grin crawled across her face, it had been her turn in the front the last four times. She was the ultimate front seat sitter! She buckled her seat belt and felt a light tap of affection on her hand. He smiled down at her, his eyes glimmering as he pulled the gear into reverse. “Wave to mum!” he said, and she stuck her face against the car window, waving excitedly while they pulled out of the driveway. She had very slight interest in football, but her colourful beanie fit her head snugly, and she held her hot chocolate with both hands. She sipped at her cup, two marshmallows slowly melting inside. The boy sat next to her, shivering, so she handed him her cup to hold on to. His scarf was coloured the same, just a little too small for him.
She fell asleep in the car on the way home, in the front seat, only dozing but still dreaming. He smiled, picking her up by the armpits and hoisting her over the shoulder. He grabbed her by the thigh to stabilise her, his grip waking her up. She was groggy and sleepy-eyed, not taking long for her to settle once delivered back to her bed.
The sea air flowed through the car windows as she sat in the front seat once more, salty and fresh in her lungs. Her brand new unicorn swimsuit was begging to carry her through waist deep ocean water, and her excitement grew every second. The boy chimed in from the back of the car, “Are we there yet?”.
“Only a little longer now, hang in there bud!” The man cheered.
It was ten minutes before they reached the shore, hearing the push and pull of the waves as they drew closer. The white bubbles on the sapphire canvas glimmered, enticing a slight unease within her. The two played, laughter echoing and layering like waves over the water, creeping closer, washing away. Sand worked its way through every crevice, sticking to surfaces uninvited, coating towels and clothing like a souvenir to bring home. Their toys were picked up from the shore, floating gently out in the waves.
…
In her adulthood, her unease tossed and turned, pushing and pulling like the waves on the beach. As she pondered her childhood, there were certain things that seemed cut out of her memory, like a newspaper used for collage. Simple things, like a partner's touch or a close friend seemed like a risk, her hairs stood on end. The sand stuck to every surface of her body, itching and grating. She felt fundamentally wrong, like something inside her wasn't quite right.
…
It was a few years before she realised. She had known many people since that time, and she had lived so much life. But as she thought of the sunny days of her childhood, her memories felt tainted with malice. Her stomach dropped and she suddenly felt crystal clear clarity, like every moment in time was a piece of a puzzle that she didn't know existed, a cruel game completely out of her control. The realisation devastated her. She felt guilty for not realising sooner, not protecting the little girl that she was. She felt naïve, and stupid. All of her life she had felt wrong, like she was broken, like she couldn't trust anyone, but now she knew why. She knew that it wasn’t her fault, and she grieved for the poor little girl.
Grief is a long, slow process. It never really goes away. But slowly, you can heal. The girl, now a woman, felt the first rays of dawn as she woke in her freshly cleaned bed. She made her coffee, grinding the beans and frothing the milk, adding a careful amount of sugar. She spent her day painting, stroking colours onto the canvas with intent. Studying the forms and shapes, balancing the composition. The light from the window seeped in, bringing a warmth to the room. She stood back from the canvas, and the thought washed over her that she hadn’t thought about it all day.