The Speed of Sound

The Speed of Sound

         Lub dub, lub dub. The waves sounded loud in my ears, they matched the heartbeat that pulsed noisily along.  My brain wondered, and remembered. My body followed my brain into a reminiscent state, and my being longed for the emotions and feelings that existed when there was only water, water and the sky.
         The cool air blew the hair from my eyes; I muttered a soft ‘thank you’ to the wind for saving me the trouble of lifting my arm.  The pale blue sky was peppered with clouds, and the crisp fall air was refreshing after a warm dreary sleep.  My house, is a boat; it’s not a big boat in comparison to the rest of them, but to me it was huge. It was my playground, and when the sails filled and the water rushed by there was not a happier time.  We lived in a colony-I guess that’s what someone would call it. There were two other boats, we lived in the middle of the ocean with no land for miles. I guess I don’ t really mind land all that much but when the choice is between water and land, then the decision is apparent. 
         Our family are the inhabitants of the two other boats. I live with my grandfather; he's pretty kooky, but I mean come on he's a sailor, what do you expect? There's an elderly couple that I join for an afternoon ‘tea’ party every so often.  The other boat joined us a few months ago. In it is a mother and daughter. They fly through the sails, they are like the wind: they fly, glide, and occasionally put wet suits on and dive into the frigid water.  There they would glide just as they had in the air above.  How they arrived here is a story my grandfather told me many a-time. It is the story that I shall now tell you.

         It was summer when Eliyse was born. Her mother Maya had the smoothest delivery ever recorded at a hospital located in a town in England that no longer exists.  When Eliyse was five her father would take her to the ocean and show her the sea gulls and the birds that danced on the wind. He said, You can do that, if you want to. You can learn to fly.  Eliyse, every time would reply, How daddy? How can I learn to dance? I have no wings.  Her father would say, Eliyse, is that what you want? Do you want to fly? ‘Cause if it’s what you want, then I can teach you, I know how.  Wonder struck the face of the little girl You Daddy? You can fly?  Her father looked to the ground, then back at Eliyse, smiled and nodded his head. Then he would look tired, look to the sea, and suggest that they return home.
         Many years passed where Eliyse and her father would go to the beach that was surrounded by grassy hills and the enclosed by crashing waves; every time they had the same conversation, Eliyse would ask, When Daddy, when are we going to fly?  He would never answer, only look to the sea.  One day though, he came to her. He said, Let’s go, let’s fly.  So they went. They went to the place Eliyse least expected:  a gym. By this time, she was eight and had visited a gym with her mother on occasion.  This gym was not the same.  It, it had a mood that surrounded it-made it threatening and welcoming at the same time.  Determination struck her father’s face not unlike the way a semi truck might.  It hit and it stayed.  He walked with a blank expression.
         At this point in the story, my grandfather would always reach over to the stereo and play “Speed of Sound” by Coldplay, as if to set the mood. It worked; it sucked you in and held tight.
         The doors flung open and Eliyse walked in. Surrounded by dark she felt, peace. She belonged. This magical building was where she was supposed to be. She didn’t know why she had to be here, but this is just where she had to be; it was meant to be.  Flash! The lights blinded her; colors blended. Ropes hung from the ceiling, dangled from the sky. They were connected to the wings, the trapeze bars.  Mats covered the floor, a deep blue sea, that hung below the flyable sky. 


‘Teach me.’


         The ground had a hard time letting go of Eliyse, but that didn’t matter for her. Although she loved the ground, the sky called, she longed to fly.  It took  her years and years of practice.  Just before she turned 18, her father died.  He died from falling; the ground won finally. It had pulled and pulled on her father, urging him to forget about the sky and keep his feet on the ground.  This weighed heavily on Eliyse, and for many months she stopped flying.  The dirt had killed two birds with one stone, or so it thought. 
         In the months to pass, Eliyse and her mother found comfort in each other, and the sea. Her mother was an ocean person, drawn to the waves, much like Eliyse was drawn to the wind. The land held nothing for them.  They wanted only water and sky.  They cared only for that which is untamed and ever changing.  One might argue that the brown dirt that you walk on is like that, but Eliyse and her mother did not see it that way.  Eliyse had taken a grace period to mourn her father, but as hard of a time as the earth had letting go of her, the sky had an even worse time; it yelled and screamed at her, calling her name, never giving up.  The ground was losing terribly and it knew it, but it had one more thing to give.  It gave a boat. 
         The earth had finally realized that Eliyse was the sky’s, and her mother, the sea’s.  So it gave up graciously and offered them a gift for stealing from them the life of a father, and a husband.  They sailed and sailed, but eventually they longed to see other people but not return to the land. That’s when they found us. Grandfather says that when they arrived, they cried-they cried tears of joy and tears of pain.  They drift in and out of our family, but here they stay in our hearts and our memories. Granddad says that when they are gone, the wind goes too.  He shouts and shouts sometimes, always saying the same thing, Eliyse! Please, just a little wind, for we need it to fill our sails, regards to your mother! Ask her to send the currents.  They always come, too, no matter what the previous conditions were.
Grandfather ends his tales with a weary smile and a request to put down the sails. 

         So as I sit here now, listening to the lub dub of the waves-I feel not alone, I feel the sea, I feel my family, I feel hope and love.  The cool water pushes up against the side of the boat cooling the walls, and in turn cooling me. Here I wait and feel not the cool water but security, and I feel like I belong.  This is where I need to be, and where I will be always. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the soft voices of Coldplay, singing about thoughts flying at the speed of sound.