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The sound of silence carries me to another place.
The cascading droplets of water begging me to remember, the soft sand molding to my feet asking me to feel it again, the taste of salt water waiting for me to remember another lifetime, the hot tips of the sun ray unfurling and deliciously heating my skin wanting me to recall when we met last.
So long ago I called this place home.
I frolicked in the sand and ran to meet the crashing waves. Although I was born in the dead of winter, I was raised in the light of the shinning sun and the depths of the shimmering sea. The beach is what I call home, where my nostalgia is a beautiful sort of feeling and the tang of salt water brings the comforting lull of home back to me.
The crashing waves gently whisper my name.
They speak of promises and secrets untold, yet to be discovered beneath their indescribable surface. Running my fingers over the rough exterior of a clam shell I recall first discovering the beauty they hide away inside. Since that moment the ocean entices me and calls my name from miles and miles away.
Now I stand on rock towering above it all.
The waves crashing against the cliff trying to reach me, the send peeking out as the water recedes, all calling out to me “home.” And then slowly, freely, I fall. Diving into the depths of the sea, returning home.
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