In the sunset my daughter throws wet sand at the waves in a contest with her best friend. The way the light hits they look black-and-white with a tinge of sepia. I remember early summers in British Colombia, playing till dark and our lips purple with cold water and wind; we laughed and screamed with joy while mom watched happy and ignored dad sipping whiskey too fast, scowling as each squeal of happiness underscored his emptiness.
Now the end of July, and I sit in twilight reading an amazingly beautiful book about love and loss…and so in my head I’m recalling the first time he kissed me, leaned over me in the movie theatre and told me I’m beautiful and I’m barely 18 and he’s 32 and I want that moment to last forever but now he’s across the world with someone else, and I cry just a little sometimes over the love that I let go. As I read the words on the page, I think: It’s implausible that a man can remember his first love forever. And yet. He wasn’t my first love but certainly my longest, and 23 years later I still remember every touch and his arms so strong, and then I imagine his face when he returned from Bermuda and I was gone, some piece of shit note all that I left. How could I have done that to someone, to anyone, but to him? Some regrets will last a lifetime…
The book – “The History of Love” – (it is amazing and has set my mind reeling) – also has me thinking that to live without knowing your child must be the worst kind of pain. How can Sophia’s father have spent more than 7 years not knowing that joyous girl? A moment captured today with the camera, the light just so on her sparkly eyes and wide laugh, and I wonder what kind of person can not want that spark to touch him too. Our last conversation reminded me only of what a racist pig he is and emphasized how much I don’t want him in our lives. But…she wants a face to view and a hand to touch and keeps holding out hope that one of the semi-monthly phone calls between us will result in a real meeting; and so I keep that hope alive too, just for her.
But now the night is dark and the kids are running in the cold dark sand and so happy that it makes me hurt to watch. Sand buckets, burnt noses, scraped toes, missing teeth…castles, princesses with moats and dragons and maybe a super-hero or two.
