When ships reach the shore

The old man took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh sour sea smell. The calming sound of the waves crashing on the shore was echoing in the deserted surroundings, lingering in the evening air like a blessing. Seagulls cried in the distance, their sad stories piercing the darkness in the shape of invisible dying rays of hope.
The man’s feet were moving slowly and rhythmically through the cold bluish sand, tickled by its smoothness. Although he had crossed the beach everyday for more than thirty years, that very night the sea seemed so different, as if he wasn’t gazing at it with his own eyes. It was calling him, he knew that. He knew that, but he also knew that he had no reason to trust his feelings anymore.
He sighed painfully, as the freezing water touched his toes. The cold injected his body. The old man stopped to rob his knees, then kept going, parallel with the horizon line, collapsing with the sea. Directing his feet to the old lighthouse, the man couldn’t help thinking at all the mornings when he opened the large door and crossed his fingers, as if something great was about to happen. He remembered his first day there clearer than anything in his life.
“I’m Brian Dawson. I’d like to work here” he had said to the lighthouse keeper. The man had scanned him with confusion. “Why would you want such a thing?” Working in an old lighthouse didn’t seem a good idea at all. But what could he explain to that man? How could he tell him that he had to get that job, he had to be there every day for his son, who was travelling on the sea and had promised to come back? How could he tell him that he was his father and he had to keep the waters calm for him, to light his way, to wait there every single minute? Brian hadn’t said anything. But the next day, there he was again, on his first day as lighthouse keeper. Yes, his son had promised to come back. But he never did.
The old man cleared his throat and muffled himself up in his large shirt. He loved the silence. In fact, it was the only thing that he knew so well. He couldn’t remember when the last time he heard such a thing as noise was. His head was throbbing with pain. Thousands of thoughts and buried dreams crossed his mind, but he had learnt a long, long time ago to keep the untouched, not to suffer again.
Brian fixed the foamy waves reaching his feet. He closed his eyes, imagining himself running through the clear water, laughing loud and heading towards his son’s ship. It was such a real dream. The only one, actually, which he let “unlocked” along the time. He could almost smell his son’s perfume, he remembered his voice as if he had seen him that morning.
“Tom…” he muttered.
The breeze seemed to carry his words away.
Opening his eyes, the old man was gripped by a strange feeling. In the distance, right where the sky still had a pale shade of pink, there was a ship. A real ship. How long had it been – weeks, months? – since a ship passed by? The man’s eyes were obediently following the slow movement. His gentle breathing was the only thing that could be heard. As he was watching that scene, he felt his pulse quicken.
“No, no”
It wasn’t possible.
Brian put his hands on his rumbling temples, shaking his head. For a second, all his dreams came back and mixed chaotically in his head, letting him dizzy. “No, it can’t be”, he kept repeating to himself. His heart beating faster and faster, the old man stepped into the water and started walking rapidly, grumbling with pain. He refused to think that he was too old to walk. Glancing at the old lighthouse, Brian launched himself further in the water. His breath turned heavy as he tried to run. A radiant, silly smile rose on his face as he started to make desperate signs with his hands in the air, so that his son could see him, if he was there. “If”.
Suddenly, the man realized how pathetic he was. For so many years, he had watched hopefully every boat and ship approaching the shore. He had believed in “if-s”. But with what result? This thought turned Brian upside down. He couldn’t get enough air to breathe, so he coughed, because of his asthma. He couldn’t feel his feet nor his body for a second, then he started wobbling and fell to the ground, splashing everything around him.
His pain scream covered the silence. A few seconds later, an old lady came rushing towards him, with a worried expression on her face.
“Brian! For God’s sake, you could have drowned!” she gasped, helping her husband get up. “What on Earth were you thinking”.
‘Nothing’, he said to himself. The man was quivering.
“Come, I’ll make you some tea.”, the woman added kindly, taking Brian’s arm.
As they were turning back to the beach house, two tiny tears gleamed in the man’s eyes. He really thought that it was him this time. He really did. He always thought so.
The woman entered the house first. Brian remained in front of the door, hesitating. The sound of a ship engine stopping in the nearby made his heart freeze. Crunching footsteps were then heard, louder and louder, until the old man could smell the person behind him. Smell him. His wrists started to tremble and his eyes widened at the voice that followed.
“Father…”
The next instant, the night sky was filled with stars, and the old man’s smile was the one that sparkled the brightest.