Forever

Far out into the distance, at the very tip of the curled arm of Cape Cod, stood a lonely white lighthouse, gazing out into a lonely sea – a beacon of hope at the end of the world.

When honeymooners Jimmy and Julia first set off for the lighthouse, they assumed it would take half an hour – maybe 45 minutes – at the most. Yet, they had been walking now for over an hour and the lighthouse seemed as far away as when they first started out.

It was as though both time and space had slowed down for this moment.

As though it were a mirage.

Remarkably, it had been forty-five minutes since they last saw another human being. Walking along the tip of the Cape at sunset not only made them feel like they were walking on the edge of the earth; it made them feel like last two people standing on it. They pretended that – despite centuries of existence – this slice of earth was made just for them only, waiting for this very moment.

Like any couple on their honeymoon, they were filled to the brim with the idealism of new love. The setting certainly helped perpetuate this idyllic myth. The future couldn’t look any brighter; till death did them part. This was the promise they made. And the promise they planned to keep.

Forever.

Both lifelong Michiganders, this was Julia’s first time on the Cape. Jimmy had vacationed there with his family throughout his childhood, visiting his grandfather who lived in Buzzards Bay. He finally convinced a reluctant Julia into making it their honeymoon spot after exploring other, more expensive options. She wanted a cruise. But he insisted. And she gave in. Uncharacteristically. He promised that someday, they would take a cruise.

Jimmy couldn’t wait to make new memories at his favorite place on earth with his beautiful wife. He was worried that without the childhood foundation of memory, she wouldn’t be quite as impressed as he was. But to his pleasant surprise and relief, she fell in love with the Cape immediately, just as he had all those years before. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a difficult feat.

The newlyweds walked hand-in-hand along the dunes, plotting their entire future as the amber sun slowly melted into a velvety orange sea. At the same time, all that mattered was the present. However, it is in that relaxed state of in-the-moment bliss that the gates of the future deem themselves most accessible.

The sand was cold and clammy, but felt so good beneath their feet, on the heels of a long, lazy day of soaking the rays of the sun, swimming in the sea, and disappearing into one another and into their future, desperately trying to hold onto the present. They knew the day was destined to be one of those days that live at the forefront of the photo album of their minds. Memory snapshots that stayed as fresh in memory as they were when they were first experienced, making other experiences pale in comparison.

They dreamed of perhaps one day owning a cozy cottage on the Cape to spend their summers off from teaching. Or, more realistically, a place up north. He could write and she could paint, as the waves lapped gently on the shore. And one day, they would watch their children frolic on the beach as they made their art.

Meanwhile, the sun continued its gradual descent into darkness – at one point, it seemed to be frozen in place, or perhaps just setting slower than usual, as though it knew it had a special audience all to its own.  The moon already beamed high above them, a vibrant contrast to the red-orange glow of the sun, casting a surreal, almost heavenly light. This wasn’t earth. It was as though they were floating in their own galaxy.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” he asked.

“I’m sure if you’re sure,” she responded in usual solidarity.

“This might be the last chance we get.”

“Don’t say that. It’s never too late.”

“I’d like to think that,” he said, with an unexpected dose of sobering reality.

“Well, then I guess we have no choice,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “We better keep trekking.”

So they did. As the sun continued its deliberate set on the horizon, the lighthouse still loomed equidistant from when they began. Now tired, they walked in silence in a way that only soul mates can.

Far out in the distance, what appeared to be two figures suddenly materialized in front of them, surrounded by what appeared to be heavenly, halo-esque light.

He pointed straight ahead. “Do you see that?”

“What?”

“Don’t you see it?” he said, pointing again. “Looks like two people in the distance.”

She squinted and did, indeed, see two shapeless figures seemingly glowing in the distance.

“Do they look sort of odd to you?” Jimmy asked.

“You mean, like angels? Julia asked. “Yes, I see them. But it’s probably just the sun and the moon playing tricks on us.”

“Probably,” he said, not convinced.

As they continued heading towards the lighthouse, the figures drew closer. The angelic halo surrounding them was now gone, but something else was becoming clear. The two figures weren’t simply strangers. They were individuals that they knew all too well.

“Wait a minute,” he began. “Is that …”

“Us?”

They were looking at exact replicas of themselves.

They both became hushed, as they continued approaching their alternate selves until they stood face-to-face, in stunned silence. They noticed that their alternate selves looked slightly older and worn and it seemed as though they were being pulled together like powerful magnets. Surely, it was a dream. There was no other rational explanation.

“I forgot how young I once looked,” Jimmy’s alternate self said, breaking the awkward silence, but not the confusion.

“Can you explain what’s happening?” Jimmy asked his alternate self, who – aside from looking much older – appeared much less confused. It was as though the alternate Jimmy and Julia were expecting this encounter.

“Tomorrow, in our world – your future world – everything is final. We will be going our separate ways. But it’s not too late. You can avoid everything we did wrong. Every mistake. Every heartbreak. Every hurtful word. Every unresolved argument. Everything.”

“I don’t understand…” Julia said.

“We were once where you are now,” other Julia stated. “In this exact moment. In this exact space. At this same sunset. But now, we are as far from this moment as we could possibly go. Tomorrow, everything becomes final.”

“It’s too late for us,” other Julia said. “But it’s not too late for you. You can avoid this. You can avoid everything.”

“Avoid what?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m afraid that’s all we can tell you,” other Julia said. “We don’t have much time.”

“But we can assure you that you’ll know when the time comes,” other Julia said. “And when it does, remember this moment. Please, whatever you do, remember this moment. So you don’t make the same mistake we did.”

“Not for our sake. But for yours,” other Julia said.

Jimmy and Julia nodded in agreement then turned to one another, then back at their alternate selves. But they were now gone. All that remained were their footprints in the cold, clammy sand.

Alone once again, the couple looked at each another in an equal mix of disbelief and awe.

“Is this a dream? she asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“How could it not be?”

“Well, if it is, then whose dream is it?”

Jimmy got no answer in return. For a moment, he grew worried that his Julia was gone, too.

“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

‘Of course we are,” Jimmy assured her with a deep hug. “How could we not be? We’re in love. And we have our entire future ahead of us.”

“It’s getting dark,” Julia said.

They looked out into the sea, in the sun’s waning moments, in search of their visible and invisible future. The glow around the sun resembled the glow of their other selves.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said. Jimmy nodded in agreement.

They embraced and kissed, and then made otherwordly love at the foot of the dunes as the sun went down on what they would forever regard as their single most memorable experience. It was not only a moment they would remember, as they promised, but a moment they would return to every day for the rest of their lives.

Afterward, they held each other in search of forever, while looking out into a forever sea, shimmering by the light of a cold, indifferent forever moon before heading back to civilization.

They vowed to make it to the lighthouse on their next trip. But by then, it would be too late.

As these things so often were.