There is a slight change in pressure as I step off the elevator. If the roar and whipping wind along the corridor does not given away the truth of what lay ahead, the white remnants of the day along the floor does.
The breeze whips around the corner of the passageway and the hours and miles of driving begins to melt away. Some say they can smell the air, but for me it is the feel of it, reaching for me, and wrapping around me—welcoming arms pulling me onward.
I turn the corner and see the palm trees sway and the rise of sand hiding what I have been aching for these long months. My pace quickens toward what is there at any pace I chose. It has been waiting for me for a long time. She is ever patient.
The smile spreads across my face and the yearlong pent up stress escapes. The metal gate clangs shut behind me, the final barrier between the two of us. I hurry along the tiled pool area of the hotel toward the wooden steps leading to my sandy salvation.
My sandals slide with a slight and reassuring twist on the wooden steps. Proof I am on the right path. Then I see her, moonlit rolling surf on her way to meet me, and calling me. “Hurry, it’s been too long.”
I slip off the leather that separates my feet from the cool sand. Each particle massages muscles that ache from too long without her touch. I ease my way forward. The breeze moves my shirt and blows in my ear like a lover that one wishes they had. Happiness is within reach, my feet step onto surf pounded sand, damp from millennia old waters.
The roar in my ears is like a lullaby drowning out all other sounds, or like the call of rejoice of one to another at a much longed for embrace. Perhaps that is why I love her so. She covers me with the first touch. Gentle, warm fingers wrap around my legs and urge me onward.
I walk a few more steps, close my eyes, and feel the sand wash away as I begin to sink into her. With each grain of sand and each retreating surf, another negative memory drifts away. Another glowing thought enters.
My shoulders slump, tension releases, muscles tremble. Yes.
Some love the sound of music to relieve their life, some a massage, and some art. For me the music of the surf, the massage of sand sifting and the art of the moon on the waves take it all away. Lovers come and go, but for me the ocean always returns and welcomes me whenever I need her.
“Welcome home, Ronovan, I’ve missed you.” I open my eyes, and see the moon on the waves and let the rhythm drift me away.
© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 03, 2014.
Lovely piece of writing. I feel amazingly relaxed and want to go to the ocean now. 🙂 Happy Writing, my new friend. 🙂
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Thank you! Being descriptive while being efficient at it is something I need to work on, so this was a good assignment for me.
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very nice. It feels like you are melting with the environment around you.
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Thank you very much! That’s basically what I was going for in a way.
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Really solid imagery. A sensory experience with your words that let me travel to destination. Nicely done.
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Thank you!
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This was a fantastic read and I was right there with you the whole time. You’re way too good for 101!
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I would appreciate critique on my assignment as well. Thank you! 🙂
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Thank you! But this was a surprise piece from me. I think perhaps that’s what 101 is about. 🙂
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I love the line,’With each grain of sand and each retreating surf one more negative memory was carried away.’
Thanx for sharing!! 😀
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Thank you! Following and reading your offerings now. 🙂
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Just a little heads up, I am not that good a blogger as you are!! 😉
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I’ve been blogging 6 weeks so I’m still new. 🙂 Reading you now.
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I like the premise of the ocean as a lover. It makes for a lovely description and a very creative approach to the prompt. Nice choice. Read mine? http://wp.me/p4FKit-4x 🙂
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Great job!!!! I can relate to this so much !!
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“With each grain of sand and each retreating surf one more negative memory was carried away. One more glowing thought entered”. — Absolutely beautiful. This entire piece urges me to go, to meet her as well, to allow myself to hear the same music and feel the same massage. I can totally already feel that dampness under my feet. Thank you for this. Thank you for making me even more excited about this upcoming weekend.
If you’d like, here was my entry for day # 2. This has been quite the learning experience.
http://theprettyplatform.com/2014/06/04/a-view-unlike-any-other-writing-101/
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The ocean lover 🙂 Being born and raised on an island I can relate to this in the most intimate way. I often use the ocean and it’s many sounds, textures and smells in my writing. It is where I feel at home…where I feel loved. Simply beautiful. Thank you!
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Wow. Coming from someone who knows that means a lot. Thank you!
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Read my recent post Summer Haze. The ocean is part of me….it grew in me just as much as I grew up in it 🙂
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Do you have Twitter?
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yes, Honua Nani
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I just followed you. 🙂
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Cool….I’m not a good twitterer. I still don’t get how it works too well.
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I messaged you. Top right hand corner, the Envelope thingy.
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I am an ocean lover myself.
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I hope I conveyed this right then.
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🙂 Thanks for sharing , Beautiful. The ocean is our mother in so many ways… Love – liz
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[…] Challenge This Week: Write about a family gathering. I know that sounds like non-fiction but by writing pieces like this you tap into emotional and sensory experiences you use for other writings. An example of this would be a short piece I did quite some time ago called My Ocean, My Lover. […]
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[…] use for other writings. An example of this would be a short piece I did quite some time ago called My Ocean, My Lover. No Word Count limit this week, just no book lengths […]
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[…] use for other writings. An example of this would be a short piece I did quite some time ago called My Ocean, My Lover. No Word Count limit this week, just no book lengths […]
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How serene 🙂 makes me want to go to the ocean 😀 so peaceful
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Thank you! 🙂
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[…] Last week was my 2 year blog anniversary and during Writing 101 back then I wrote the short story My Ocean, My Lover, about how much I loved the ocean. And I did exactly what I said I did in the story, mostly. Except […]
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