Ficlet: The Constant Sea

[meridian_rose]

The Constant Sea

During the day the beach was busy with people sunbathing, walking their dogs, paddling in the sea, rock-pooling, and on a windy day people flying their kites high in the clear blue sky. Singles, friends, couples, families, all finding ways to enjoy the promenade, the beach, the sea.

During the night however, the beach was quiet. The gentle sound of the ocean lapping against the sand could be more clearly heard without the squeals of delight and buzz of conversation. There was no ice-cream truck to punctuate the late evening air, and the traffic had cleared.

Late evening was their favourite time to come to the beach, to light a fire in a hastily dug pit surrounded by rough stones, to sit together under the stars. To eat and drink, to sing and talk.

In summer they'd stay out until the early hours, splashing in the sea and telling stories in equal measure. They'd gather driftwood, play games, draw pictures in the compacted sand close to the water's edge.

If the summer solstice was dry, they'd bring a disposable barbecue and stay out all night. They'd swim for a while and then dry off by the fire, sipping mead and making plans for the summer.

In winter they'd venture to the beach less frequently but the lure of the waves and the sand was too much to ignore completely. They'd wrap up in warmer clothes but still, sometimes, one of the group would dare to paddle in the chilly waters.

At the winter solstice they'd drink mulled wine from their Thermos flasks, clap gloved hands together as they sang carols and songs that spoke of snow. They'd gather up stones or shells, make wishes on them, and toss them into the welcoming arms of the ocean. They'd leave early, knowing the sun would be returning and their long evenings would soon become a regular occurrence again.

Day and night, summer or winter, the waves rolled in, the tide rising and falling, ever-changing, yet a welcome constant throughout their lives.