Posted by: jolantru | September 22, 2009

Wave Fourteen: Sea (Part I)

To the sea, I return.

I took a leave of absence from the School, promising Auri to resume my studies once I come back. Auri was decidedly unhappy about my decision to go back to my village, to the sea. But she gave me assent and kissed me softly on the cheek. Josh hugged me and told me to be careful, his eyes speaking more than his lips.

To the sea, I return.

I traveled past the ghost towns and was amazed to see new life sprouting on the metal roofs and crevices. Green fern fronds, fiddleheads curling, as they emerged magically in places where I did not expect to be rich or fertile.

I traveled past the Sea of Dead Ships, marveling – now – at their sepulchral grandeur. The wind still echoed through their hollowed hulls and vacant shells, echoes of old and myriad voices, of their histories. Theirs was an unspoken story, woven across time and space as they cut through the galaxy to their new home. Like the ghost towns, green was appearing in cracks splitting the weathered metallic coverings.

To the sea, I return.

~*~

The pearl-oysters beds were the first things I saw when I approached the village. Familiar, familiar grounds. Large, squarish beds, immersed in seawater. It was where I practiced curling light, in total secrecy. I did not need the secrecy now and the thought was liberating, lightening my steps, making me walk faster.

I saw the huts when I walked closer to the village and I was astonished to see that they were bigger, with concrete roofs and brick walls. The roads were paved with proper tiles and were now even, no more crookedness and pitted with holes. Evidence of the tsunami had disappeared, replaced by brick and concrete. I felt as if I was walking into a surreal place, familiar and alien at the same time. Trade with the City had indeed made my village prosper.

I half-dreaded to see the sea drastically changed and rejoiced when I saw the green expanse of water, tipped with foam-topped waves. It was already afternoon and the women had all returned back from their oyster diving and were at home. The sea was quiet, broken except for the laughter of girls playing along the shore. One saw me and ran up to me, eyes curious and sparkling. “Are you Mirra?”

Surprised that she could recognize me, I nodded and the girl darted off to the houses. The rest of the girls watched me closely as I slipped off my travel clothes and stepped into the warm-cold water, my bare feet immersed in clear sea and soft mud. I walked in more, until the water was waist-deep and I inhaled in the familiar smell of home.

Mirra-Mirra-Mirra.

The evocative refrain came back. Memory, song, signature. I whispered it as I dipped my whole body into the sea, my skin immediately responding with a rash of goose pimples, settling down as I got used to the temperature.

I let the sea embrace me.

To the sea, I return.

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Responses

  1. Homecoming. Why do I sense it as bittersweet in spite of the joy of being there? I know the feeling and wonder where Mirra is going from here.

    You do have a way of evoking subtle emotions with your phrasing.

    • Thank you. 🙂

  2. I just found you through luthieawu on twitter (I’m @agnieszkasshoes) This is really lovely stuff.

    • Thank you. 🙂

      I followed you back on Twitter.


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