Some things come to an end. Things change and we are forced to make a tough decision.
Text and image by David Paul Nixon
Some things come to an end. Things change and we are forced to make a tough decision. How long can you hold onto the past? Is it worth risking it all for one last chance? To rewrite the past for someone you love.
It was the end of summer. I would need to start packing soon. I had left it dangerously close to the last minute. I was reluctant to accept or face my future.
My job wasn’t holding me back. They would be letting me go in a few weeks, once the tourists stopped coming. They didn’t need many people in the autumn; I wouldn’t be one of them. University was my future: my ticket out of this village. But my place was confirmed in writing only.
Carolyn’s house was conveniently halfway between the post office and mine. I could’ve taken the road, but I preferred to go across the rocks. Down on the beach so small that no one called it a beach, you could see, when stood far back, into her bedroom window; the portal into her attic room.
I don’t remember when I met Carolyn; I just remember when I fell in love with her. I was riding along through my adolescence and suddenly I had an epiphany.
But I was always a bit behind everyone else. She already had a boyfriend.
I almost told her when she split up with him. I almost told her two Valentines ago. I almost told her when we were driving through the hills at midnight. I actually did tell her two months ago when we were drunk, but she didn’t believe me and didn’t remember.
I decided to try just one more time.
Amongst the seaweed and pebbles, there was a small blunt-ended stick. I reached into the rock pool and fished it out and then, in the sand, I wrote.
Dear Carolyn, I Love you. I’ve loved you since March 11th 2000. I don’t know why I never told you. There was a never a right time. I always thought that there was something between us, that I didn’t need to say anything, that one day it would just happen. And now I’m going away. Tell me you love me Carolyn and I’ll never leave you.
I wanted to go on. But there was only so much space on the sand. I didn’t know if she would even be able to read it from up there.
I didn’t re-read or alter my confession. I just sat on a rock and waited for the sun to go down.
Every few moments I would look back at the window, crushed each time it remained empty.
The hours went by. I sat still.
The window was still empty.
Eventually the tide came in and washed my words away.
I stood up and threw the stick back into the ocean.
It was time to move on.
