Anduaste, I'm Sorry

The meadow was all but empty. Two things still remained, Nuada and the shine of the Moon. She gazed upon it in desperation. For weeks she had searched for the words, any way to truly describe the presence the Moon held in the sky. But nothing would come. She wasn’t even sure the words she was looking for were real. How could they be? How could anything describe what she saw?

Andrew found his mistress asleep outside for the fourth time this week. He’d hoped it not be a regular occurrence since fall seemed to have been coming a lot faster than usual.

 “Ma’am out ‘ere again? It’s gettin mighty cold, you're just lucky it was only spittin last night.” 

“A tad bit of rain never harmed anyone,” responded Nuada, the light seeming way too bright for this time of morning.

“If you're sure ma’am.” 

“Why are you here this early anyways? I usually have to starve in the mornings.”

“First off yer never starvin, second the baker made it fresh, and I’d thought it make up for me forgettin yesterday.”

“If it’s warm then all your sins are absolved.”

“Oh thank ye kind father,” Andrew responded, the snide not hidden in his tone.

Much to Nuada’s dismay, the bread was somewhat cold. But she knew not to expect any better. She had chosen to live this far from town and that came with the common occurrence of cold bread. As she watched Andrew remove the rest of her groceries from the wagon, she noticed the wood of her chair become splotchy. It wasn’t long before the rest of the rain followed, and she ran quickly inside so as to not get any wetter. 

“Thought little bit rain never ‘armed anyone ma’am?”

“Oh, quit your slaggin, its lashing now.” The ground was now flooded with the rain’s intensity. Andrew placed her goods on the table as Nuada fished through her drawer to pay him. 

“Here’s 8 pennies for the food, and here's an extra one for your cheery attitude,” she added stubbornly. 

“Ah only one extra, what a shame, guess my cheeriness just not enough.”

“Oh, shut it you miserable little pox, and anyways can you get me some eggs for tomorrow I dropped my last few.”

“You know it–” started Andrew.

“Not with this again, I don’t want to live in town. I’m perfectly happy with forcing you to get all my things from town each day.”

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it ma’am, but you should get out a bit more. There’s a fair down in Drumcliffe ‘long the coast, you should really visit.”

There was a small pause before, “Fine, fine I’ll go if it’ll quit your whining.”

Any other time it would’ve been an immediate no, however nothing was changing. Each night she stared at the Moon searching for answers, and each night she was left with almost nothing. So why not go into town, she wasn’t doing anything here.

The day continued uneventfully leading into her night. The downpour was unceasing, and the clouds covered the Moon even if she was to brave the rain. All she had left was a bitter sleep to turn to.

A bitter sleep, that was abruptly awoken by incessant badgering. 

“Wake up ma’am I’ve brought the wagon round to bring ye to the fair.”

In her groggy mental state, all she knew is that she should never be allowed to make a decision again, lest it cause her to wake up this early in the mornin just to go into town. Scowl dawned on her face; she flung the door open to a surprised Andrew.

“I’d ask howsagoin ma’am, but clearly you doin sound.” 

“You're such a fuckin’ melter Andrew, bangin on and on at me door.”

“Got you up didn’t I, and anyways we need to get a leg on if we wanna get there as the first fresh batch comin out at the fair.”

As reluctant as she was, Nuada retreated to her room to put on something more presentable. Right as walked out the door, Andrew ushered her into the wagon before starting off at a quick pace. While Nuada got herself situated, no thanks to Andrew, she realized she had also grabbed her journal. She didn’t know why she had grabbed it, but she was happy it was there nonetheless. About two hours later they had arrived at the fair to find it already packed. Despite the crowd though Nuada had an enjoyable day. Though she would never admit to Andrew, he had been right; she did need to get out. 

As the sun set, and the fair’s crowd dwindled down Nuada headed for the beach, Andrew had already made arrangements for her to stay with his family for the night, so she needn’t rush in getting home. It was an unreasonably clear night considering the rain the day prior, but Nuada wasn’t complaining. In fact, she was happy for how easy it was to see the Moon, high above the horizon of the ocean. Hours seemed to pass as she just sat there, listening to the waves ebb and flow, feeling the soft breeze chill her to a point of just bearable, the occasional shiver down her spine when it picked up. The sound of footsteps shuffling in the sand could be heard before, “Ma’am I didn’t find you in bed when I woke, you best get back now,” Andrew asked hesitantly. 

“Come morning I’ll be back, say around seven.”

“But that’s the problem ma’am, morning don't seem to be comin, it's already six yet it still looks like midnight” 

“Then I’ll return when the sun comes up whenever that time may be.”

Andrew seemed as though he didn’t want to leave, but when Nuada just looked back to sea, he realized nothing could be done. 

When he left, Nuada stared up to the sky and said, “Anduaste I'm sorry I can't put you into words. The world deserves to see you how I do. “

As Nuada sighed, she felt a soft splash on her bare feet. The tide was rising. As she shuffled back, she noticed, as the tide receded, a note of some type was left in the sand. It read, “But I do not need the world to understand me, just you is enough.” In the back of her mind Nuada knew this was insanity, that the tides do not speak to people, but still. Still the desire to speak with her was strong, even if it was crazy, if it was just in her head. “I love you Anduaste, you don’t understand. How will you ever know if I cannot show you?” And the wave washed up higher before, staying longer, until slowly retreating into the sea. 

“If the day mustn't come so that I can still see you, 

I can’t be blamed if the night is evermore.

And the world would all fall if I was to meet you 

So would you think it wrong if it crumbled down today.

Past all the clouds 

I sit alone,

And you sit in the open

Your love clearly shows.

So I’ll wash up the tides to tell you I know.” 

No words came from Nuada. No words were needed. The poem was complete, and the poem was never started. For why would it need to be? The purpose was already served.