Watching silently as the waves crashed and broke against the rocks, the surf just bubbled and foamed as if angered for being pushed around. The sounds were mesmerizing and so loud drowning every thought. I stood watching silently as the sea danced its merry dance or was it a peep into the fury of sea? Water shaken and stirred, bubbled and splashed at the shore as if mirroring the turmoil he felt.
As I saw him standing still and watching the sea I wondered about what his mind held as he saw the violent dance of the sea. So much passion, drama spewed through the waves. He had been like a statue for the past hour, too long in the cold, windy cove. The black rock around described his mood perfectly, I thought. The sea spewed its anger at the beach and it was as if he was absorbing it.
Suddenly I saw his hand move and he pulled out a black box from his pocket. It was flat, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand and I held my breath. He looked at it with disdain, anger and revulsion, I edged closer to the tree I was hugging, hiding from him.
Slowly he took off the wrapping turning the box in his hands caressing it as if it was a treasure; I realized it was one. He let the wrapper fall off from his hands and the wind snatched it away plunging it into the brewing sea. Maybe taking the sorrow he felt along with it, I thought.
As he caressed the shiny, ebony surface of the small box, my eyes filled up as I watched him; wishing I could run to him. Hold him, hug him and tell him I would be with him all the way. But I could not; I could not promise him false hope, I could not hold him forever.
As he opened the box, I held back in my spot, hoping he would go further. Wiping my eyes I saw he picked up the tiny curved piece from the box. Slowly he turned it around and his expression softened, as if he was embracing it, understanding it, accepting it to be a part of his life. In a flash he fixed it in his ear.
I jumped as he screamed; he was down on his knees, screaming his lungs out. His anguish, pain, and helplessness torturing my heart but I too was powerless. Yet I watched not moving. As he slowly sank down on the sand embracing the sight and sounds around him, I felt the anger flow out of him as he started laughing. He was hearing the world around him once again.
Finally he could hear his world, he could find his calling and I could let go. He had embraced his life in spite of being left out. Acceptance is the beginning I thought and I smiled. Quietly I turned and walked back to the house; I had the good news to share with his mother.