The beach trip: Remembering the life preserver
I stood on the boardwalk next to the stairs that went down to the beach.
I saw the sun slowly setting.
I listened to the roar of the surf.
I smelled the salty air.
One night, approximately five-ish years ago, I was drowning.
I had a two year old toddler and a young baby. I was no longer treading water, but swallowing huge gulps of water.
That night, when Hubby came home, there was no dinner made. He was handed the baby without a word, and I walked out the door, got in the car, and drove away. I left him to find the note on the computer I had written about why I left.
I drove for a long time. I couldn’t decide where I wanted or needed to go.
I ended up at this exact beach, about the same time of day.
I sat on the sand and didn’t move, didn’t even think, for a very long time. Just sat and listened to the waves crash on the beach, and watched all the people go by.
Watched the sun set.
Smelled the salty air.
Eventually, I got up, and walked by the water, and picked up a few shells.
I played with the sand.
Four hours after I left, I returned home.
My children were in bed asleep. My house was spotless. Hubby was in bed, but wasn’t asleep.
He had responded to my note on the computer. His response was my life preserver.
I climbed into bed with him, and told him where I had gone.
We sat and talked.
And slowly, he pulled me out of the water.
**the islands in my header picture were my view as I sat on the beach that night.