Return to the Surf

[Editors' note: This is the fourth in a series of posts that recognizes the runners up of the third annual creative competition sponsored by Kauai Backstory. This year's theme: Surf. Congratulations everyone.]

by Alison Hummel

I hear the crash and thrash of the waters.
I listen.
In my mind, I listen.
No, no.
In my heart, I listen.
Listening now--eyes closed.
I scream, "Yes I hear you!"
Quickly opening my eyes to look around.
Nobody notices my outburst.
I close my eyes again.
Tightly.
Like I am five years old again.
Hiding from monsters under my bed.

Back to the thrashing and crashing.
I have been hiding from you.
Hiding behind the bushes in my parents back yard.
Still crashing and thrashing
like the waters that you are.
When can I see you again?
I am longing to feel the crashing and thrashing.

Of course these days, in my throat my heart lives.
It's like stuck in there.
ahem.
I try to cough it up.
But no that won't work.
Fighting the tears.

And then they come so hard,
like out of the blue.
It's sort of funny.
Tears: like the surf running down my face--salty.

When I open my eyes, I look around.
I am on Fourth Street, in Philadelphia.

And then I remember that in my heart there you are.
And of course my heart's in my throat.
And when I let it up--the tears.
And then you are on my face again.
I cry so that I may return to you.

Return to the surf.