It’s Been Real


On the last night of summer. I crawled out onto the balcony outside the beach house that we’ve gone every summer since I was quite small. It was pitch dark then, except for a few faint lights in the distance illuminating the boardwalk to the water. Listening to the waves crashing against the shore, I flipped through the last few pages of The Great Gatsby for the seventh or eighth time that trip. The sky was flashing with faint lighting but my heart was flashing too. It was sealed with the last slivers of summer I’d chipped off every second. It was one of those days when the moments seems too full. You’re happy. And Sad. You don’t really know.

The darkness seemed to swallow me. I looked at the lights and the distance. I thought about the words in my book and I wondered what was already behind me.

This balcony is the place where I’d go often as a child and just stare at the ocean ahead, creating a million stories in my head. But now, they’ve built some houses and almost completely blocked my view of the ocean. I fear someday my heart will turn into a blueprint to build houses upon my view soon someday. But as I thought back upon all the times I had spent as a child, I knew that times change and that the best is always beyond me. I realized in the same way that the birds will soon fly south and the tree’s will lose their coats, and ocean kept beating and reaching for the shore–it will go on.

So I sat there. I thought about every summer I’ve ever lived, about new depths of laughter and new depths of heaviness, about feeling forever as I ran across the Baltic Sea. I remembered road trips and the thoughts that carried me through dark nights across the rain highway and in random road stops across the country.

Summer, it’s been real. But the unknown, colossal ocean of my future will always be ahead of me: bigger and more beautiful than I’ll ever know.

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