Not All Who Are Lost Need to Wander

        It was a beautiful day, the sun warm on my skin, mostly clear save for a few puffs of clouds here and there, the air clean and sharp like the intake of fresh mountain air away or the first true breath you’re able to breathe after coming up from underwater. Sand squeezed between my toes bringing back memories of childhood with each grain, trips out with family, the boy thought was my first love, the man who was, and all the ones in between.

               I hadn’t planned on stopping here. I would just keep driving, keep on the path back home. One wrong turn though and back here I was, the temptation of the beach calling my name, pulling me to its shore. And so there I stood, shoes in hand, admiring what was in front of me.

               “Lost?”

               I turned around to see a girl, a vague sense of familiarity about her. Sandy blonde hair swept across her forehead, a teardrop necklace hung around her neck, and she wore a white sundress that stopped right above her knees.

               “No, no,” I shook my head, “It’s just a pretty day, you know?” I gestured out to the sunset reflecting off the clear water, the blue I remembered from earlier now a myriad of orange and pink, hints of purple peeking through. The ocean was on fire, a warm, inviting fire that was more beautiful than I could have imagined.

               The girl came to my side and looked out with me. “Everything’s always treasured the most at its end,” she said. “That’s when we can see how beautiful it really is.”

               “Sunrises are nice too,” I offered.

               She nodded. “So, not lost,” she said.

               I smiled and let out a faint sigh. “I did take a wrong turn actually,” I admitted. “No though, I’m fine. It’s later than I thought it was though. Time really got away from me.”

               “It does have a way of doing that,” the girl said.

               I thanked her for her kindness and I got on my way. Once in the car, I got my phone out and made sure this time to commit the directions to heart. Two exits from now I would be on the long stretch to home, back to whatever would await me when I returned. Back to whatever my family would say about my leaving my job, back to the conversation I had been avoiding with Greg since I’d gone to my last checkup. My lungs felt heavy, full of the possibilities that weighed me down.

               In a matter of minutes I took the exit, the asphalt winding around in a sharp loop, a cluster of familiar trees on either side, and soon I found myself back at the sight of sand, the sound of water crashing and receding from the coastline.

               Ridiculous. I know I took the right exit. The first-no, the second. Did I take the right exit? A groan rose from my mouth. I was too distracted. No, not distracted. I was putting it off. The longer I went in circles, the longer it would take to finish the drive, the longer I could put off all the conversations I dreaded, the longer I could hope my family would be proud of me for doing what I wanted to do, while also fearing of their disappointment, and his disappointment.

               That was it. That was the last time. I reached for my phone and pulled up the directions. This time I wouldn’t mess up, this time I would just waste the data and use Siri. I would have anyway if I hadn’t been greeted by the lovely “No Service” notification at the top of the screen. It’s fine, it would be fine. I didn’t need it to tell me when to turn, I just needed to focus on getting what needed to get done out of the way. And so I kept driving, once more, this time without stepping out onto the beach, without returning to the sand and the girl in the white dress that still stood out there staring off into the ocean and burning clouds. I left it all behind, back onto the highway, back to the exits, and back to them once more.

               Why?

               Why.

               I parked my car and rested my head on the steering wheel. The frustration welled up, tears fighting to come out, but my determination and exhaustion fought them off. I cleared my throat, an itch crawling up and back down refusing to leave. There was a tap at my window.

               It was her, once more, the pale girl in the white dress, her expression as blank as the last time I saw her. I opened the door, the window unable to roll down for over a year now. The air that came in was refreshing, and so I joined her outside once again.

               “Lost?” she asked.

               I shivered at the question, a coldness rising from my feet to my chest as if I’d just dived straight into the deep end of a pool. I wasn’t lost. I knew exactly where I was going, where I was, where I needed to be.

               “It’s okay to be lost,” she said, a faint smile accompanying her words. It was comforting, yet sad. “Not all who are lost need to wander.”

               I scrunched my face up at the words. “I don’t think that’s how that expression goes,” I said, and then covered my mouth before a sudden cough escaped. I cleared my throat once more and sighed. “It’s getting late. I should really try to get home,” I said.

               She grabbed my hand, her touch as gentle as it was insistent as I went to climb back into my car. She shook her head and I thought I could hear a voice in the distance, but there was no one else there. It was familiar though, as if I could imagine the boy it belonged to, a boy with brown hair soaked from swimming, and wearing black swim trunks decorated with palm trees.

               “You don’t have to,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “It’s okay to admit you’re lost.”

               “I don’t understand,” I said, and the tickle was back, stronger this time, crawling up my throat with a vengeance and sending up what I suspected as vomit as I hacked out my lungs. I looked through the pain and saw water pooled at my feet. I tried to breathe, but it felt so hard. “I need to leave,” I gasped, each word a shaky utterance. “I need to go home.”

               The girl looked on at me, a sadness in her eyes as she let me go, and I coughed once more. A fear far worse than those that had occupied my mind earlier crept into me.

               “Am I-Am I dead?” The words didn’t seem real, the sound distant despite coming from my own mouth. A damp cold filled me, my lungs full of liquid air.

               The girl with no name offered her hand up to me this time.

               “What happens if I come with you?” I asked, swallowing hard and allowing myself to start crying.

               The faint smile returned. “That’s up to you,” she said, and her voice wrapped around me like the allure of the beach, shrouding me in her comfort. I took her hand and allowed her to take me from my car, to take me with her into the sands once more, into whatever ending or whatever new beginning awaited me.