Tides we keep
People come and go
like waves upon the shore.
Some are small ripples,
barely touching sand—
a fleeting hello,
then gone once more.
Some stay awhile,
rolling in soft and slow,
leaving footprints
that fade with time,
washed smooth
with every ebb and flow.
But every once in a while,
the ocean shifts.
The horizon darkens,
the winds hold their breath,
and something vast is coming—
a wave like no other.
A tsunami.
Utterly beautiful to look at,
majestic and wild, full of life,
yet terrifying in its power.
It doesn’t simply kiss the shore—
it claims it.
It roars and crashes,
sweeping everything into itself,
making you feel more alive
than you ever thought possible.
And then…
just as suddenly,
it’s gone.
The sea retreats.
The silence is deafening.
You’re left standing
among the wreckage
of what used to be.
You gather what remains.
You rebuild the sandcastles.
You smooth the edges.
Eventually,
you learn to breathe again.
To anyone passing by,
the beach looks whole.
As though nothing ever happened.
But beneath the surface,
deep in the sand
where the water struck hardest,
there is a scar.
Not jagged.
Not bleeding.
Just a quiet hollow
the tide can never quite fill.
It doesn’t ache every day.
Some mornings the sun rises,
the waves sparkle,
and you almost forget it is there.
Then the tide comes in just right,
and your feet find it again.
You remember.
Not because the ocean is cruel,
but because some waves
were never meant to be ordinary.
Most people drift through our lives
like tides that come and go.
But every once in a lifetime,
someone arrives
like the sea itself—
beautiful enough to steal your breath,
powerful enough to reshape
the landscape of your heart.
And even after they’ve returned
to horizons you’ll never reach,
they leave behind something permanent.
A mark.
A scar.
Proof
that for one extraordinary moment,
the ocean chose your shore.
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