Sunday came. It was a cool morning in Maine, but there was a beach and cool or not, I would go to it.
I pulled a sweatshirt over my sleepy head and poured coffee into a funny cup in the beach house cupboard. It had a tennis raquet on the side and I couldn’t help but smile at the history of this cup. Once, it might have been new. The owners must have liked tennis. I had a stepdad once who taught me to play tennis. I felt like the cup. I felt out of place.
Cup in hand, camera around my neck, I dragged my beach chair down the dirt road named Lobster Lane. I crossed a quiet road, opened a gate, descended three stairs and the beach said good morning. It was high tide and I was happy about that because it meant there was less room for people to crowd it. Less room to think.
I sat by the wall with the ocean so close. Would it reach my feet? Almost, but no. Then it would fall away. Would it come back? It did. I thanked it.
I thought about what the day meant. The one holiday that I could never feel. People were waking up now. Thanking their fathers. Cooking them breakfast. Buying them ties. Holding their hands.
My story isn’t tragic. No one died. There weren’t tears. I didn’t run down a street in a small town begging him to stay. I didn’t bare witness to a horrible divorce.
My story is simple. Like the ocean, he was always somewhere. Sometimes close and sometimes far. Like the ocean, I could count on him to come back, like the cycle of a wave, in a rhythm. But like the ocean belongs in the ocean, and the sand belongs on the beach, the two would never have time, in the quickness of the crash of a wave, to be anything more than aquaintances. There would be just enough time to leave a puddle on the beach, or some salt in the water, to give us a feeling that we’re alike, but to remind us that we don’t belong.
Like the ocean, it would always fall away.
18 comments :
This was really beautifully written, Jenna.
You have a gift with words and this is the truth.
XO to you. Let’s get together soon, please!
Thank you Anna! I would love to!
Jenna, this is beautiful.. it literally is making me choke back tears while I eat my morning bagel. It makes me think of my own situation (well, significant other, not w my father). I applaud your honesty.
mm bagels. Thank you– I’m happy/sad you could relate. Sorry for making you cry! XOX
great post. i feel strange about fathers day && mothers day. I think they tend to bring more hurt than happiness. but then again there’s society who tells us we should feel sad for what we don’t have. we can change that. i also think the two of us alone will put hallmark out of business (: thanks for sharing. xo L
thank you Lindsay! I’m really free all Saturday in RI. will you be there
You write beautifully. I’m glad we’re friends.
Thank you, missing you!!
I loathe both Mother’s and Father’s day, as I do not associate with either of my parents. I always feel like a black sheep on those days. I’m glad I’m not alone.
Lobster Lane! Fantastic.
You have an amazing gift with words Jenna!
Thank you! That means so much!
Long time reader, first time commenter. Just had to express my gratitude as this post touched me so deeply. It speaks volumes to me because it reminds me so much of the relationship that I shared with my father before he passed away. You are an extremely gifted writer, Jenna. Thank you for sharing your talent, as well as your sweet spirit, with us every day.
Thank you so much for the sweet comment, Beverly! I do love feedback and comments so I hope this isn’t your last!
Not that I’m the first one to say this
but you’re a fabulous writer! Reading your work is like a breath of fresh air. I truly loved the honesty in this post – it’s comforting to know we aren’t all “daddy’s girls”…xoxo
Thank you so much, Eliza. Your comment was so lovely to read!
jenna that was gorgeous. you have such a way with words. xo
You always wrote what I wanted to write, You are such a gifted writer. I felt all choked up after reading this post. I’m so grateful to get to know you through your posts. May God continueto bless you always.
Thank you for always commenting so kindly, Tina! And for reading.