The windows shook and rattled as the over-powering winds off the Atlantic Ocean blew inwards towards the rickety old cabin she had since long called home. The storm had worsened greatly since the previous morning. It seemed as though, ever so suddenly, the distilled calm it had taken her nearly over a year to reach had been snatched away with the mere pulsing of the thunder and the rage of the ocean waves.
She could feel the cool air seeping in underneath the doorway. With each catch of chill, she could feels her bones grow more and more frigid. The cold had never been a friend to her.
As she rummaged through the linen closet in search of a blanket, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to the earlier days. The days where the sounds of footsteps and laughter filled every nook and cranny of her house and of her mind. The days where finding a moment of peace and quiet solitude for even 5 minutes was a blessing all in itself.
The days where loneliness and silence weren’t the only source of company.
Shaking her mind free of the past. She reached for the sheepskin quilt buried beneath towels and wash clothes that had long since been used. Wrapping her frail figure tightly beneath it, she wandered over to the window – the glass blurred with fat and heavy raindrops.
Raising a palm to the glass, her frail fingers began to wipe against the condensation, hoping she’d be able to squint through the rain and grey fog to better see the ocean.
The waves that had been so inviting merely a day before had seemed to undergone a true metamorphosis all of there own. They crushed against the shoreline, one after the other. The once tranquil waters now seemed to be breathing as though they had a life of their very own. An angry and vengeful life. One that took anything and anyone who stood in their way.
For several minutes, she peered out the window, staring at this scene. It was one that nearly a year ago, she had grown all too familiar with. As she continued to gaze out upon this natural war, of water and of wind, once again she couldn’t help but wander back to the earlier days. The days where the sounds of the footsteps and laughter of her and Harold’s children filled every nook and cranny of her house-their house.
She knew that one day her children would grow older and leave her and Harold. Onto new chapters and new adventures. But she would never be alone as long as they were together.
Gazing out the window for one final moment, quiet tears began to roll down her wrinkled and weathered face. The distilled calm it had taken her nearly over a year to reach had been snatched away with the mere pulsing of the thunder and the rage of the ocean waves.
The waters were breathing a life of their very own. An angry and vengeful life. One that would take anything and anyone who stood in their way. Just as they had nearly a year ago.
Loneliness and silence were not supposed to be the only source of company.
She was supposed to have Harold.
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