Between the waves and me

CW: Suicidal intention

The wind blows my curls into a looser constellation and the sand between my toes shifts with every twist and turn. I open my eyes and look out over the vast ocean that reveals itself in front of me, interrupting my dance for a brief moment of wonder. The sky is streaked with various hues of pink and purple, like something out of a fairytale - a dreamscape, a space between past and present, away from the linearity of time. There is no worry here, no sadness or pain; there is only light, and breath, and sound. The salty air invades my nostrils in the most pleasant of ways, the grains of sand softening the skin on my feet ever so slightly. The moon shows her friendly face against the backdrop of a setting sun; echoes of purple transform her white light into something magical, something otherworldly. I make my way over to the clearest blue water I’ve seen in my life, glittering in the reflection of a lit up sky, and I wonder when I have ever felt this free. As I head towards the crashing waves and allow my feet to touch the lukewarm water, I realise I danced so long I didn’t notice the tears streaming down my face. I wonder if this is goodbye, if I will ever see the sea again, or feel so free again.

I notice her footsteps approaching me slowly, her skirt rustling in the wind, and I try my hardest to pretend not to hear. I don’t want anyone to disturb this moment between me and the sea, the moon, the tides. “Your hair lights up beautifully like this,” I hear her familiar voice behind me, and feel her gently tugging on one of my curls. I cringe ever so slightly, shrinking beneath this all too familiar authority, yet the view of the vast ocean reminds me how insignificant she is. I consider escaping, running away, but I know it is futile - so I decide to stay firmly anchored in this moment, allowing the sound of the waves to separate me from whatever it is she wants.

I look in awe at the birds that fly so freely across the water, envious of their ability to go wherever the wind seeks to take them, to follow their instincts without ever thinking twice. As she moves to stand next to me, I decide to ignore her for however long I can. At least she leaves my view intact. Even if I am caught in her prison, there is always the ocean. There is always a way out.

“The king is waiting,” she finally says. “I know,” I reply after letting a brief silence sit between us, not a care in the world for the king and his entourage; my only concern the glittering ocean, the sound of the waves, the birds cawing in the wind. If I were to shift my gaze I would see his ship, waiting to take me far from everything I’ve known, away from the ocean that calls out to my soul with each crashing wave. The only act of rebellion available to me in this moment is to ignore his existence and the future that awaits me.

“You’ve gotten your dress all wet.” She speaks again, her voice an icy wind piercing through my landscape of dreams. “I know,” I say once more, looking down at the white tulle, the pearls that subtly decorate the lace corset, the gigantic skirt that nearly made me trip down the castle steps and onto the beach.

Growing up, I was constantly reminded that my wedding day would be the most beautiful day of my life, that there would be nothing more significant or awe-inspiring than that single moment in time, planned carefully for generations. My future was set in stone long before I was born. Yet today, I found no beauty or hope but that of the deep blue ocean and the moon in the sky, reminding me ever so gently that I am as much a part of this earth as they are, a grain of sand in an endless sea.

The king did not seem unkind when I first made his acquaintance last week; his expression was friendly and his manners correct, though he is as old as my father, who feels ancient to me. Sick to my stomach with envy, I watched him take my brother out for hunting trips and sword-fighting lessons and heard talk of diplomatic trips that would teach him the tricks of the trade, and I wondered and pondered and asked God why a similar fate could not befall me. Why should I be whisked away to a land unknown, reduced to an accessory dressed in pearls and tulle, nothing but an instrument to secure a lineage? How can I make sense of such a destiny, knowing that my daughters and granddaughters will grow up only to meet similar fates?

Up until the very last moment, until she takes my hand and forcefully moves me in the direction of the castle without speaking another word, I contemplate running. Running, or swimming, or praying that I might grow wings and fly as far away from here as I can. I could take this heavy dress off and swim to an island nearby, far enough to reach a place where no one knows me and I could start anew. My name nor my title would bear any significance or weight; my heritage would no longer be the ball and chain keeping me trapped in this life. Even if I don’t reach someplace new, running into the waves and spending my final moments however I please would be a worthy ending to a life where no choice has ever been granted me. I would linger forever in the embrace of the waves, this space of the in-between and the unending, my one way to show them all - I did not surrender, I did not surrender. Let this be my encore, my final moment, succumbing only to the sparkling ocean and the moon up above.

Yet somehow, in a way unbeknownst to me, the part of me that chooses life is victorious. Perhaps it knows something that I don’t - that one day a glimmer of hope might emerge and shine more brightly than all that came before; that one day my fate might change. I watch my feet as they walk slowly back in the direction of the castle, my wet dress now the only thing that remains of my brief dance with the sea. The sun has set, the sky no longer a colourful spectacle or a companion; as though she is mourning our time together, too.

I didn’t follow the water, the ocean, the moon. But for the briefest moment in time, I was free.