Crimson Mornings | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Crimson Mornings | Previous Challenge Entry
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08/22/07
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Morning light paints the horizon with a blend of sunrise watercolors. Drips of alizarin crimson spread from sky to ocean, and I am captivated by the pink glow coming toward me on the water. Suddenly the scene is awash with memories; memories I want to leave behind in my footprints, hoping they will fade into the sand or be swept away by the ebb and tide and taken out into the depths of forgetfulness. But some bob around like glass floats without nets to anchor them. They are the ones, which return on the crests of the waves again and again, until they lodge in the sand…and there they wait.

I sink to the warmth of the beach and retrieve the persistent sphere. It is round and clear like a water globe. I recognize my life as the seascape within, covered by sands of regret, but no matter how hard I try to shake them loose or turn the globe upside down, they filter back over the beauty of what might have been.

Holding it up to the light, the glass orb reveals your face, and I remember this beach, this sunrise…our love. At least you had said you loved me. I was never more sure of what I wanted until you left me with a part of you to nurture on my own. Questions hovered like seagulls waiting for a handout. How can I keep something that reminds me of the rejection I don’t understand? And yet, how I can I give away the very thing that embodies our love?

Faced with consequences too painful to comprehend, I remember sitting here on the very beach where we had pledged our love. Alone, I had watched the crimson mornings of each passing day slowly fade into dark and lonely nights that made no sense. Why would you leave me? What am I supposed to do now?

“Let go,” said those thought to be wiser. My heart had sided with my emotions; my mind had wrestled with logic. My tears had made the answers to those questions all the more elusive, until time required a decision. I’d held the baby blanket I lovingly had made from sunrise watercolors and ocean blues trimmed in soft sand days. I’d folded the letter I had written to those coming to get our son, but after brushing his newborn cheeks with my lips, I had wavered, just for a moment. Am I doing the right thing? Will I ever know?

I get up and wade at the water’s edge, feel the waves swirl around my ankles and tug at the sand beneath my feet. Do I toss this memory back, on this beautiful crimson morning? Or do I hold on to it…just in case?

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