literature

Taste the salt you breathed

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Published: Jan 28, 2010

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Literature Text

I hooked up my rain-coat and looked around me with a sad sparkle in my eyes. It was as if I wanted to get the real and best image of what was the best summer of my life and I was running out of time. My clothes were packed, somewhere on the couch, the pile next to the scarf I wore every day we saw the sunrise together. That seemed to be the only thing that let people know we knew each other and we have spent some time not too long ago. The red, a bit see-trough tee-shirt was on the top. That's what I wore in the morning, the last morning I ever thought I would spend with him, the last morning of this wonderful summer.

They said "until it first rains" and it did today. Maybe I should have brought a few more clothes that could protect me from this weather and their words, but the truth is I didn't belong here anymore after the first rain came. It was as if I was washed out of this place's life and even worse: I was somehow washed out of his life, his magical and yet intriguing life. Was it me who did not fit here, or he didn't let anyone fit any longer than this? I wasn't sure and neither of us ever brought this into conversation, maybe afraid of the consequences or maybe that was just me.

I was afraid of hearing the words that would lead me away and as every other human being, I didn't want to destroy such magical last moments. Only the thought of saying it made me imagine thousands of different situations, but any of it came to life, I was the one that had to leave, willingly or not. Maybe life isn't as they say and we should fight tears back when they tell us things have to change at some point, only because it's the next step, obviously not a full stop, but a new beginning.

But it feels like I'm breaking and the whole story does too and I never wanted it to end like this, although it's far more an happy ending than a heart-breaking one if it comes to think about it. I am not.. I loved being here and I still do, probably always will. Whether I forget how things were or not, my life goes on and next summer I'll try again, I'll try to be happy as I was this summer.

But no, I do not want to forget any of it, even if I never come back here and my heart breaks forever. My eyes keep wandering around the room, aimlessly, they might think, but no. Every single spot in this room, on the beach, everything reminds me of how sweet and cozy it was to be here, especially these past few days. It comforts me to know I have a sweet memory to share, but somehow I don't want to share it, because sharing seems like fading away, like dividing the intensity of it.

I hear the sea crawling to its' mother, I hear the sea crying for its' lost children and I hear the sea calling for me one more time. It's amazing how much it helped me breath, when I thought I've lost too much to ever be able to recover and yet I've gained even more or so it seems now.

The sea, this room.. I want to remember them accurately and when I return to that uncomfortable city I'd like to paint. I want to paint. My soul is craving for this art of his. And yet I have to work and this is not what I usually do. Painting is not my job, never was. I work with stiff numbers; stiff because they have no feelings, nothing to share when it comes to happiness. And art does.. I'll find time for that, I have to.

Someone is coming towards my little cottage and I hear the steps mixed with the thunders. It's like a wonderful song I loved and re-discovered today but I'm sure I never had the happiness of hearing it, but now I'm facing the happiness of discovering it. The knock wakes me and although there is a door in front of me, I know who that is, I know these are the last moments of my absolute happiness.

"Hi" he says, never smiling, never letting me know how he feels. One thing I know for sure, though: he wanted to see me, he wanted me here, for at least as long as I was here. He's conscious, as much as I am, that I have to leave tomorrow and we're both facing this, but obviously differently. I'm consuming all the energy to force all the tears back and he's so calm an yet passionate, cold and yet warm as those thunderbolts probably are.

I smile, unsure and he grabs my hand, dragging me outside. "Wait" my heart yells, my body feeling warm despite the cold, almost freezing drops that fall upon it. But I don't voice it and follow him quietly and yet it seems like an annoying noise is surrounding us, because of the rapidness we run.

I close my eyes for seconds and I let him lead me. It feels normal, as if I always, regularly, felt this, but I know I know this road and where he takes me. I know I want to be there too, now, when the last day is almost over. And I do not want to stay there alone.

My heartbeats are fastening and I feel like pounding with joy. My thoughts jump, from one thing to another, but I do not care. He stops and so do I, but my heart won't. He puts his hand on mine and takes it to his heart. It's like it's mine, but I know it is not. I open my eyes and face his dark blue eyes I fell for more than a month ago. His hair is messy and wet, his eyes watch me apprehensively and his lips finally curve in what is a lovely, yet heart-breaking smile.

"I missed you the entire day."

I couldn't say anything more than just a nod and I hugged him as tight as I could. "Thank you" I managed to whisper and looked into his eyes again. His light, yet passionate kiss made me dizzy and we sat on the beach, while it was pouring. Whoever might have seen us, probably thought we were mad, but we didn't care for anything like from this world, but us.

"It rains" I said and we started talking about what rain meant to this place, to those who came and had to go. And that was me. I was brave enough to say I didn't want to be washed off of his life and he smiled a bit ironically, telling me he didn't, but he would if I wanted to. Only whispers.. I couldn't yell, I couldn't be mad, but I just whispered I didn't want to let go and wished that neither did he. He only hugged me tighter, showing me I was wrong if I thought he wished this to happen.

It was nevertheless the most wonderful night I have spent there and my breathing felt cured from all the heavy toxins, thoughts and feelings I had back at the beginning of this summer. I felt amazed of how easy it was to breath him in and all his perfume, the sea and the rain. And it was almost morning.

"Why is it so easy to leave now? It's like some poison made every single ache to fade away with this rain. I feel that everything is okay now and I reached the purpose of these days.."

Grabbing my hands and looking into my eyes he whispered he had a cure, a cure that was bound to this place unfortunately, and I wasn't able to take it with me. So every single summer, before the rain came I would come there, he said, to find once again the cure and I'll never forget any bit of it. It made me curious if he meant he was the cure and wondered why. Kissing me lightly, his last words, every single summer were:

"Taste the salt you breathed."

Inspired by someone's photograph.

's photo : [link] .
At first I only took into consideration the title, asking him if I could use it. As he agreed, he told me that the title was inspired by this song: [link] .
I didn't have the photo nor the song in mind when I wrote this. Actually, I've heard the song a bit later after I wrote this story. I was amazed that it fitted my image, and so did the picture.

Please feel free to critique and tell me what I did wrong here. Grammar, composition, anything.
And thank you Thomas for letting me use the title.