Six Years

I strolled along the sea, letting the water splash against my bare feet. The air was cool and refreshing. My mind raced with excitement. It was a nice feeling to be around the beach after years. The same sunset, the same chirping of birds, the same hustle and bustle around. Everything was so similar. Except the company. The void in my heart.

The last time I was here, I wasn't alone. We walked along the shore for hours, hand in hand, our shoes in the other hands. The waves splashed against our feet, drenching us. The wind was strong. Usually I take great care of my hair but I didn't mind when the breeze tangled up my wavy locks. I didn't mind the noise then. Everything was worth it. With endless chats, ice creams and him, there was nothing more I could ask for. The perfect kind of day it was.

Six years later, I was back at the same beach. It was the same time of the day. I walked on, alone. The sun gradually set. The chirping slowed. The crowd lessened. I walked on towards the quieter end of the beach, where there would be none but the sea, the wind and me. Where there would be no one to hold my hand, no one to lean on. No one to share my ice cream or complete my story.

Six years have been too long.

Six years since he died.