Creative Writing

A Memorable Weekend

Blue skies and blue waters. That is what I remember about the first weekend when we went our separate ways again. The distinction between the sky and the sea was impossible to spot, yet I know the line between them existed. Occasionally it made itself seen from the break of waters, other times it was a blur hiding behind the blue.  

Just like the fragility of a relationship, the end of it seems far and unknowing yet lurks within the shadows. When a breaking point hits, the waves collapse and so does a relationship. But waves surge back, so That weekend I took a train from Norwich to Cromer. There had been sunny days and I refused to feel dull at summer’s beckoning. A short 49-minute ride transported me to a petite seaside town, I remember breathing in the salty freshness of coral reef and stone. I had not been to a beach in a while, and I missed that sun-kissed feeling.  

It was a Saturday, so the beach was packed with families and friends. Laughter and screams filled the air in a summer melody. That was what I needed— surrounded by joy and company. The wind gently brushed my cheeks, played with my hair, and caressed me in a reassuring way. At least that was what I thought the wind was trying to do. I walked through stacks of pebbles in different shades, sometimes stumbling and losing my balance. But I finally made it to a seat and rested on an elevated platform near the shore, the waves splattering hurriedly, then slowly, then rushing back and forth.  

A dog threw itself into the waters, swimming into the sea by paddling its little paws at great velocity. It was reaching for something, its eyes desperately searching for it and when it finally found it, it turned and swam towards the shore. Ah, it was a ball. His jaw clenched the ball tightly, holding onto it for dear life. But the waves were cruel, swooshing him backward whenever it swam closer to the beach. He refused to drop the ball and continued fighting the waves as if it were a serpent strangling its movements. Then a breaking wave built and pushed him forward in an unexpected force. His body submerged within the blue but resurfaced a few seconds later. Drenched and soaked with heaviness, he escaped the strong pulling of the sea and rushed up to the shore, never returned and never looked back.  

For a minute, I was the dog. Its struggle to break free from the waters was akin to my struggle in escaping the truth and knowing that you cannot fix everything. As if you took one step forward, but later realised it was three steps back. Yet that was the reality and all you could do was move on. At least that was what I acknowledged from my trip to Cromer. 

I faced the sun, closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh. 


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03/05/2022

About Author

Melody Chan



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