Beyond That, the Sea

by Laura Spence-Ash

Before they all leave the beach, she turns from the Gregorys and faces east, back toward the island, and beyond that, the sea.

How sweet that moment is, that moment of before. When anticipation is everything. When everything is new. When there are no consequences, when there is no after.

He loved her in a singular way, in a way that was different from any other love he had known.

What was it Nelson always said? The best lies are always half truths.

Some secrets are weights to be borne. Others are gifts, little bits of warmth, to be revisited again and again. No one else ever needed to know. No one else had the right to know. It was theirs and theirs alone.

William is forever dumping the kids and disappearing.

He loves the children, too, and enjoys spending time with them, but he hates the way that William assumes. What if Mother had plans? But she rarely does, and when she does, she’ll cancel or reschedule on a moment’s notice.

How difficult it is, though, with your own child. To change the patterns that have been set, to create a new way of being together.

It was all so easy when they were little. It was the part of motherhood she loved the best: making it all okay. Somebody gets hurt and you make some chocolate chip cookies and everything’s all right with the world. How things change when children grow up.

There’s something to be said for talking while walking. You don’t have to look at the person. You can keep your eyes on the path, on your shoes, on the landscape. And somehow that means that more gets said.

When you look back, it’s so easy to see the path that you’ve traveled. But looking forward, there are only dreams and fears.

We love people for all sorts of different reasons and in all sorts of different ways, she says. Remember that. And it only gets better, the older you get. Young love isn’t necessarily the best love.