One More Step

The wind howled over the lonely, rainswept sands, the ocean joining its song. The chorus of frigid and stormy noise on the beach accompanied the single being that walked on two legs amongst the birds and the sand fleas. It was a young girl, soaked as the sands that sank under her bare feet, hair stringy as the grasses that danced in waves behind her.

There was a reason she walked alone, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her raincoat, chin tucked into her sweatshirt collar. It was great, and it was frightening.

The girl-- whose name is Olive, after her tanned skin and sinewy build-- wished she could be carefree once more, skipping along the sandy hills of the coast with the innocence of a child. She shook her head as she imagined her growing up. A lifetime spent balancing on the edge of the sea and the land of the free.

Not to say she regretted her choice to attend two years at the University of Portland; it was a quite prestigious school and she looked forward to the people and education (Olive hoped to be a writer, like the ones she had long admired from her cozy couch, or a wooly blanket on the beach). She only longed for the freedom and responsible life she once lived, when the most complicated part of her life was how to tie her shoes, or who was getting married next recess.

As Olive continued down the stretch of sand, the breeze whispering into her ears and nipping her cheeks with chilled air, thinking about the disappointing end to her summer. She had hoped for a clear night on the beach, one last sunset before heading off to an entirely new world. Turning her head to face her surroundings, she felt discouraged. Why go away at all? She could learn everything she needed while staring at the Prussian blues of the sea and the sky. The deer that visited her back porch could inspire her, their wet, black noses fogging up the glass door as she ate shrimp linguine and typed on her laptop, pursuing her next big dream.

Olive was wandering by now, oblivious to the wind and rain. This tended to happen when she was deep in thought, and as she sat in the grassy hill overlooking the Pacific, Olive tucked her arms into her body with a sigh. The silence she welcomed calmed her, and her mind rested like a lazy gull.

She sat there, perched on the hill like the Eagle on his post, until at last her eyes opened. The sky had cleared, the downpour stopped, and the storm ceased. The ocean was back to its gentle shushing, and the sandpipers had returned to their skittering about in the sea foam.

There was another minute before she heard a rustling behind her, and turned to see a young boy walking toward her, swinging a driftwood branch across the tops of the grass, and mimicking their whistle. It made Olive smile, and the boy sat next to her then looked up with a toothy grin of his own.

"What are you doing on this hill?" He asked, golden curls bouncing in the gentle breeze. He glowed in the fading light of the sun, hazel eyes wide with curiosity.

"I went for a walk, and wanted to sit down a minute." Olive responded smoothly. She had a cousin about this boy's age, no older than ten, and was thankful for the opportunity to take her mind off college. "Is that okay with you?"

The boy tilted his head, debating with himself without speaking a word, before turning back to the girl. "Yeah, I guess that's okay." They were quiet a moment, the boy picking at his stick and the girl watching him fondly. "What's your name?" He spoke at last.

She told him it was Olive, and the boy mulled that information over before extending his left hand.

"I'm Clayton," he announced. "And I live here and I'm six." His little hands struggled to hold up six digits, and he looked at them with wonder. Olive nodded.

"So you're going into first grade, then?" She asked, kicking herself for allowing her mind to slink back to her worries.

"Yeah," Clayton said, his head bobbing up and down like a buoy. "I'm gonna be in Ms. Austin's class, with Kenny and Lila." He appeared quite proud of this, and Olive gave respectful murmurs of approval.

"I am going to school in another state." Olive let her words sink in. Was that really what she wanted?

"Oh." The boy had dropped his stick and begun fiddling with the zipper on his fleece jacket. "I thought you were a mommy." He peered around her, like Olive's kids would magically jump out of some hiding space behind her. "I was going to ask where your kids are so we can play sand tower."

"Nope, no kids for me." Yet. Olive straightened her spine, observing the last of the blues in the sky going red and pink from the sunset. She didn't really think of herself as a mother, but after a moment of consideration, she decided it could happen to any woman at some point.

"Oh." Clayton was playing in the sand now, his yellow rain boots shifting as he carefully dug them into the soft soil. "You know, my mom is a mommy. She's old, but that means she can help me with my school work." His eyebrows raised when he told her this, and Olive shook with hidden laughter. Seeing her expression, he laughed and insisted, "it's true, it's true!"

They giggled for a minute more, then Clayton spoke, sounding more like a wise sage in a hero's journey than a little boy. "My mom says that if you aren't sure what to do, you have to have faith and take another step." He says this while shaking his finger, his voice higher to replicate, as Olive assumes, his mother's. 

The boy’s words resinated, an echo over the empty shore. The last bits of golden sun seemed to drip from the sky and float on the sea, blinding and wonderful against the darkening night sky. 

If you aren’t sure what to do, have faith and take another step. Olive pondered for a minute. She had come so far, worked so hard, that all she needed was to trust that she had done her best, and move on to take the next strong step. One little step at a time, just a hint of confidence and a douse of courage, and she could get through anything. 

At last, Clayton stood, and again offered his left hand for a shake. 

“I have to go home now,” he stated, morlourn. “Will I see you at school tomorrow?” 

Olive smiled at his wide eyes, appreciating the innocence of the boy. “No, I won’t, but maybe someday you will go to my school.” Her hand fit around his in their shake, and when he dropped his arm, he looked at her one last time. 

With a beam that lit up the night, Clayton turned and ran back to his house. Olive straightened and began her walk to her own home. Soon, she would have two homes, and all she had to do was have faith and take the next small step. 

* * *

The young man sat on the crest of the hill, his blonde curls fluttering in the wind. The ocean stared back at him, as it had all his life. How could he leave?

The grass seemed to whistle, and he turned to look down at the sands until he noticed a collection of figures. Two were small children, and one was a man. They were laughing, all holding hands and skipping along the cold evening sands. Another figure split from the group. It was an older woman, maybe thirty years old, and she walked with a sense of pride as she made her way down the beach and up onto the hill by the boy. 

Sitting with her toes in the sand, the woman smiled at the man, the man who had once been a boy, and he smiled back. 

“I got your book.” Clayton’s eyes creased with a smile. “It was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Olive replied, her hand going absentmindedly to her book bag beside her. “I did enjoy writing it.”

The young man took a shaky breath beside her, and Olive turned to him. 

“You will love Portland,” She declared. “All you will need to do is have faith, and…” Olive trailed off, looking at Clayton expectantly. 

“Take another small step forward.” 

“That’s right.” Their serenity seemed to calm even the stars and the wind, and as they sat there, watching the last bits of golden sun drip from the sky to the stars, the boy named Clayton and the woman named Olive relaxed. A peaceful rest before the next step in their lives.