There once was a girl who lived with her fathers by the sea.
High on the cliffs, the sights, sounds, and smells were all she knew.
for 19 years she lived by those cliffs and had cherished each element of them.
A year ago, everything changed this perspective. The love she once held was robbed from her, and they no longer held her captive in awe and wonder. These days the crashing of the waves was the impending doom she held in her heart, the feeling of one day being washed away with the rocks, swallowed up and forgotten.
She wouldn’t go down to the beach anymore or step foot in town, she only ever staked it out. Taking notes and jotting down each notice of deterioration along with wave currents and signs of life (or death).
Her father knew well of her fear and never tried coaxing her out of it, he knew what grew the fear, what held its importance. He saw her books of notes and empty cups in the cozy window spot she made her new home. It had come as no surprise to him. Perhaps it brought comfort knowing this is how she held herself together. He envied her in that regard, he wasn’t sure he had been doing the work to cope.
It hadn’t always been like this. When she was younger she would embrace the sea air and take day trips around the cliffs, going down to the beaches, taking it all in while breathing in the fresh breeze, and begging for the sun’s warmth on her face. Those were different times and it felt like an eternity since she even held a smile on her face, a smile that once lit up her eyes. He longed to see her happiness. To share in that happiness and connection. These days it was minimal eye contact and one-worded answers over dinner.
This surely would all be temporary, right? The lapse in connection, the silent dinners, the disconnection from each other.
Could a pair spend the rest of their lives disconnected from one another? This home, which was once warm and inviting, lively and alive, was now a space full of sorrow and two hurting souls.
Each day at 9 o'clock she gathered her things. Notebooks and pen, binoculars, cup of tea, extra pens, camera, and a hoard of snacks to sit down for her first shift of observations. Her father would bring her anything she needed from town, and since ghosting her friends along with a budding social life, she needed nothing else. Everything was right here for her, in the home she would one day collapse into the sea with.
This morning there were no new developments, the cliff birds were still guarding their eggs awaiting a new family, the waves were lower this early and the erosion wasn’t getting any worse. Their house was farther up than the waves could ever reach but sat so close to the edge, that time would only be on their side for so long. She wanted to have a calculated guess for when it would all go awry. Having a date for her death was ideal, and so each day it was the same. She jotted anything down of note. When a new ship went by, so she recorded the exact time, along with the direction it headed. She noted each and every person she saw down on the beach. Peeking at them with her binoculars, she noted what they wore that day, what time they were down there, their activity and when they left. Always checking the tide schedule and keeping an eye out for sharks, dolphins, whales and any other life-forms she could see.
Around 1:30 she would take a lunch break, quickly going to the kitchen to make a bowl of noodles or a heavy portion of hashbrowns and eggs. And quickly she would return to the seat at the window-sill. Around 4:45 in the afternoon, her father would return from work, always walking in with an armful of groceries, and whatever ingredients he was craving for dinner that day. Most nights they would sit at the table, eating silently while her mind was always on the cliffs.
In the first 5 months, she stopped giving him her daily notes. She didn’t think he’d want to hear, and he quickly realized she was getting more comfortable with this routine, instead of it being a temporary coping mechanism. Her doctor assured him everyone grieves in their own way, but he wanted more than anything for her to leave that spot and come back to him. She never spoke of her true intention behind it, how it wasn’t just an obsession with “the spot” but something more impending.
After dinner he began to do the washing and she quickly got back for her night watch. This had become her favorite part of the day, the vast darkness of it all held a special place in her heart. The sheer terror of it all, how easy it would be to get lost in it. She couldn’t see into the beach far, only the stunning moon reflecting off the water and the small batch of waves going in and out of the cove. On a cloudy night she could hardly see the beaches at all. She debated asking her father for a pair of night vision goggles, but was unsure if they would be helpful from so high up.
She pulled out her “night-life” log book, and began jotting a few notes into it. There had only been a few night-fishing boats visible and no movement or activity on the beach. The warm fire behind her began to make her feel drowsy, the heat on her back felt good after a day of sitting slightly hunched over staring into her binoculars. Her father lay on the couch about 10 feet away reading a book, enjoying the sleepiness of the fire as well. Nights like these were her favorite. She didn’t know how to tell him, but his presence and acceptance even if he didn’t understand, were just what she needed. He never pried, but some days she wished he would. Most days she would’ve said nothing, but days like this when she especially missed how things were, she wished he would ask, so she could get it all out. The feelings of impending doom, the fear of leaving the window in case she missed anything. The fear she felt when he left for work every day, the unsure-ness of it all and the terror she felt being so distant from him. She would never say these things on her own, but if he had asked that evening, she would let it all free from her chest. Yell it if she had to, it was beginning to get too heavy for her.
As the hour got later, she slowly began to fall asleep in her window nest.
A couple of hours had passed and she found herself startled awake from a nightmare. Sitting straight up she looked over and saw her father asleep on the couch, his book falling from his hand onto the floor. Relieved, she walked over and took it from him. Placing a bookmark in it and gently covering him with a blanket. The fire was beginning to dim, so she added a few more logs and stoked it with the poker. It soon began to catch fire and warm the room once more. She stood there staring into the center of its flame, wondering what time it was and how long she had been asleep. No longer tired, the dream made her wish she would never sleep again. She faded into the bright flame and began to fall into the thought of the dream. Except it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory that she wished she could forget. It was a memory of that night, the night that devastated her world.
She quickly shook her head and walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She began rummaging through the fridge for a little snack, 1:37am, the stove illuminated. She rubbed her eyes and gently leaned against the counter waiting for the kettle to do its thing. She wondered what the day would bring, would she get more sleep or was she up for the remainder. She hardly slept these days and was beginning to feel restless, but the need for routine was imminent. So she made her cup of tea and went back to the window spot. Her father didn’t stir once and she began to observe him, the deepening lines in his face and the grays in his hair. Dark black with generous patches of gray and white, she always envied the coloring in it and wished she had his head of hair. He looked older in the light of the fire, you could see how much the last year had taken from him. She wondered how much the last year showed up on her face, if the lines around her eyes had grown into crows-feet from squinting into binoculars all day. Had the once prominent smile lines around her mouth faded? She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. A smile that she felt in her soul or even had a good belly laugh. She missed being happy and care-free.
She stood up and walked to the fire, threw a few more logs in and began pacing the room. She held herself tightly, slightly chewing at the skin on her newest hang-nail, it seems I won’t be getting more sleep tonight. The feeling of horror the dream left was still coursing through her nervous system and she would be on alert until the cortisol wore her out. She hadn’t had a night terror since the first month after the incident. Why tonight? Nothing unusual had happened that day, no one and nothing had upset or disturbed her. So why now, why was her mind remembering it all over again. She must have been pacing for 30 minutes when she finally snapped out of it. Her father was still snuggled on the couch, this time his back to the fire. At least one of us is peaceful right now. She admired how stoic he looked, even curled up on the couch. He seems to be doing better, how is he holding himself together so well? she thought. After more pacing and cuticle biting she began feeling the drowsiness return to her body and went to lay in her window-nest. She felt the safety of the present moment, the warmth of the fire, and her father asleep on the couch. The coziness of this hugged her like a blanket as she drifted off.
The sun was gentle when it kissed her face early the next morning, when she awoke she felt as if she'd finally caught up on sleep. Her body was less stiff than it had been when she was jolted awake earlier that morning, as she sat up to stretch she noticed her father was still asleep on the couch. She looked at the clock on the wall and it was barely past 9. How odd, shouldn’t he be at work already? she thought to herself.
Beginning a quick observation of the cliffs and beach, she jotted down the sight of a young boy and an older girl, they were by the water with a picnic blanket near them, and a kite in hand. Watching them closely she realized she envied them. She couldn’t remember the last time she flew a kite, let alone had fun and suddenly wanted to be part of it. Ignoring the final pull of envy, she turned to more observation, noticing the usual gulls flying around the cliffs, their nest was still the same full house of unhatched eggs.
She went to the kitchen and began breakfast for the two of them. A quick meal of sausage and eggs would suffice, especially if he was running late for work.
The smells in the air eventually wafted into the living room and her father rose from the couch, stretching slowly he began to rub his eyes and looked around. “You haven’t cooked breakfast in a long time, what’s the occasion?” She looked up at him and nodded gently “I figured you would be hungry if you were running late for work, I didn't want you to go without breakfast. It’s half past 9.”
He smiled at her, “I took the day off, I've been feeling a little more tired these days. I thought we could play cards, or cook something gourmet together later. I miss spending time with you, this past year has been hard for the both of us. I’d love to spend some time with you today.” He paused then walked toward the hallway to the bathroom. This is the first time he's brought up how hard this year has been, I didn’t know he was struggling too. She thought to herself. When he returned she had set the counter for the both of them. “I’d like that.. To play cards, and cook something together. This year has been hard..” she paused “I still have to keep monitoring the cliffs, if that’s okay. I have my break for lunch later and we can hangout then?” he nodded in agreement “I’ve got some work to do on the computer this morning, but a lunch date with cards sounds perfect. Come find me when you’re ready, okay or I'll come find you?” They parted ways and she got cozy in her spot, put her headphones on and grabbed the binoculars. Early mornings were the best time for keeping an eye on the beach, the kids were still down there and sitting on the beach blanket now. There was a couple in the water playfully splashing one another, and a dog running along the edge of the beach.
By the gentle gliding of the birds, the wind seemed to be calmer than earlier. It must be a beautiful day out there. She thoughtfully gazed out and continued jotting her findings down in-between sips of scalding hot tea.
This would be the same cup she has every morning. Earl grey with a healthy pour of honey and a generous splash of milk. Nothing was more comforting than it, and as much as she observed life outside and envied it, she still couldn’t bring herself to leave the house.
She often sat and wondered if she ever would.
She checked the tide schedule and noticed this evening was a full moon, the beach would be lit-up all night. Full moon nights were her second favorite moon cycle, with the new moon being the first. She loved how it was on those new moon nights. The whole world was swallowed up by darkness, nothing but vast darkness in sight.
With the full moon, she always saw sharks in the cove, swimming closer to shore than ever before.
What was it about the full moon that made everyone and everything act so wild and different?
She loved it no matter the explanation.
Lunch-time rolled around and her dad emerged from his office and walked into the kitchen. He threw together a couple of fat BLTs for them while she finished up with her notes, and brought them to the living room table. She grabbed a deck of cards off the bookshelf and sat down on the floor across from him. After lunch they played games of rummy as she shared with him the news of the full moon. He listened intently to all she had to say, the past observations of shark activity on those nights, and the time she saw a couple dancing on the beach under the moonlight just 3 months ago. It was her favorite people observation to date, she’d never seen it before or since and often wondered who those strangers were. Hoping they were safe and just as in love as they were that night. As she talked he began observing her, and saw a small sparkle in her eye as she went on, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Maybe her new routine has been helping her after all. He began admiring it, and how she was seemingly holding herself together. One of us needs to be doing better. He thought to himself.
After they cleaned up lunch and finished their rounds of rummy, he decided to head into town for ingredients. He was planning for it to be a surprise what they were cooking but had assured her it was something they would both enjoy. When he came home a couple of hours later, she had fallen asleep in her spot at the window. He gently and quietly crept in and put the groceries away and moved to starting a fire.
Although it was the warmer seasons, the coziness of the fire seemed to be something of a silent agreement between them. For the last year, it was lit day to night and had become a key in the harmony of their shared space. After he loaded the drinks into the fridge he gently nudged her “I’m back with ingredients, would you like to start on our dinner?” She gently sat up and looked around, then nodded and staggered over to the kitchen. About two hours later they had a gorgeous meal of pan-seared and iron skillet baked lamb steak, whipped golden and cauliflower mashed potatoes with a side of candied purple carrots.
This had been their favorite family meal for as long as they’d been a family. One they shared when there was just about anything to celebrate, something to mourn, to be grateful about, and really any “occasion” they thought of, just for the sake of the meal. This evening however, it was a reminder of how things used to be.
“Time to have dinner with my favorite girl in the whole world.” He said and looked over the brim of his glasses at her, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“What are we drinking this evening father, perhaps a red with the steaks or a bubbly for the celebration of the full moon?” She stood up and walked over to the counter looking into the fridge, grabbed both bottles and began observing them.
“I was thinking we start with the bubbly and we save the red for lunch tomorrow. I have another surprise.” She looked at him and cocked her head curiously, shrugged, set the red wine back on the counter and headed for the champagne flutes. Pouring them each a generous portion of Brut she set the glass down next to him on the table, got cozy and took a few sips of her own drink. She observed just how much food was left, they had made enough for three people. This was done subconsciously, though.. and they both knew why. They spent dinner happily sipping and indulging in each other's company.
This was what she wanted, for them to finally settle it and talk about the elephant in the room. Their shared grief and the valley between them.
Tonight was for their joy, the bubbly had given that away. For the first time in almost a year, she felt herself enjoying the presence of her body without the constant stress and worry about the cliff. When was the last time she felt her cheeks hurt from smiling so much? The food combined with the bubbles, and her fathers lively company reminded her of what was missing. This filled her with joy and sorrow all the same. It had become easy to fall into the distraction of the job of observation, it kept her mind busy and her grief under wraps. Was this another reason she chose to fill her time with that? Avoiding life and her friends, the outside world, kept her from having to talk about it.
The time flew by and before she knew it the clock gleamed 12:01am.
Noticing a shift in her demeanor he peered at the clock, and began clearing their plates.
He walks over to the fridge, reaches inside and turns with the biggest grin of amusement on his face. She looks in his hands to see a chocolate pie.
“ Dad! You got my favorite?! You spoil me!”
“ Even better... I made your favorite. I told you kiddo, I miss you. And there’s nothing I want more than to see you happy… for us to be happy with each other again.
That starts tonight.” He grabs two small plates and serves them each a piece.
“So…” he says coyly, hesitating a bit, “I’d love to know more about your game plan with this cliff study you have going on here..” She looks at him and furrows her eyebrows a little bit,
“ What do you mean by that?” He softens his gaze at her,
“You know I will always support you no matter what, we both have always supported you.”
She feels a slight ping in her chest
“..but I need to know, kiddo, is this a permanent thing? Are we going full agora-never leave the house? Or, is this simply a I-need a break and when I'm ready I'll reemerge into society- kind of thing? No pressure at all, I promise, I just want to know where your head is at and what I can do to help. I’m sure your back is feeling all the strain from sleeping there all this time. If I need to build you a bed or move the walls to make it your bedroom–” she stops him
“ Dad, I don’t need you to move the walls for me.” She chuckles lightly,
“ I don’t know, I– I’m having trouble sleeping and since that night… “ She stops and looks the other way.
“ Since that night..” he begins “Nothing makes sense, I know.” She looks back over at him, tears welling in her eyes.
“I can’t face it Dad, I can’t face the world. What am I supposed to do? He’s gone and he’s never coming back.” He reaches out to grab her hand, tears in his eyes now too.
“ I know exactly how you feel, Kiddo. Since that night everything is different. We’ve had a rough go of it and now that it’s just the two of us, we’ll need to figure life out together. It doesn’t mean we’ll ever forget him, how could we? It only means we’ll find what works for the two of us. If it means for now you stay here all day, then I will make sure to always find time just for you and your new plan. How does this sound?” She felt relieved for a moment, and then remembered she hadn’t told him all the details and her chest tightened.
“Ever since that night” she began “I’ve had this impending feeling in my chest, that if I were to leave this house then something bad would happen that I'd have no control over. Like my own death. The how, the where, the with whom, began taking over my mind. I couldn’t get it out. Then I became very frightened of what if I did what he did.
With us being up here, on these cliffs. It presented me a middle ground, these cliffs, this house would one day crumble into the sea. Look out there enough every day and you can see the erosion happening. I know it could be another 1000 years before it happens, but what if by sitting here and watching I could predict and know the exact day it would happen. It wouldn’t be my own choosing, but the natural order of things. And with that, I'd go the same way he did, and in a way we would share one last thing.” She looked up at him with tear-soaked cheeks, he gently placed his hand on her cheek. “Oh, Sweetheart. I had no idea it was like that. You know there was nothing we could have done differently, right? You don’t need to lock yourself in because of what he chose to do. You are allowed to live your life. How else are you going to find everything you love the most?” she mulled it over in her mind, “but I love him the most. How can I leave this place, the spot where he forever lives?” Suddenly all his sorrow bubbled right to the surface, “Darling girl, he lives everywhere, not just that one spot. The end does not define the whole of it. He lives in your heart and in your memory. He lives right over there in his pastel chair, still holding a book and rattling on about something that nosey reverend said to him at the post office earlier in the week.” he chuckled to himself. “ We had fun though didn’t we, Dad?”
“We sure did, kiddo. And guess what, there’s more to come. I love you, you know that right? More than anything, and I want you to know I would never let this house crumble into the ocean, not with you in it. You’re too precious to me.” She scooted closer to him and rested her head gently on his arm, “ I love you too, Dad. Now, are you gonna finish your piece of pie or can I have it?” She winks at him playfully, he chuckles and continues eating it. “You know there’s more pie in the fridge, right?”
-- Dedicated to my Dang ol' Sweetheart, Amanda Kay.
