At the Horizon

The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming sound.

The waves crashed against the shore and the side of the cliff, sounding as though they were ripping apart the whole world with their sheer force. The noise filled my ears, making it feel like I was in the water myself. Crashing. Again and again.

The sound made it easy to block out the thoughts in my head. Since all I could hear was the waves, I didn't have to worry about hearing a child's laughter in the winds.

I remember being here with my husband four summers ago. A place like this demanded to be celebrated in the peak of summer. I was pregnant then and was a blissful young woman, recently married and about to start a family. How things have changed.

As my ears slowly began to adjust to the noise, I looked out to view before me. The autumn sky was a bright blue, with the sun peeking through the sparse clouds. The constant ebbing of the waves made the water change colours before my eyes. Blue, green, black, and white where the waves crashed against the shore.

The beach stretched out as far as my eyes could see until it looked like the water and sky became one at the horizon. I wondered what it would feel like to be lost out there in the great abyss, with nothing but sea and sky surrounding you.

There was a crisp fall breeze in the air which made the water sting my face and eyes. I could smell the strong scent of ocean, and taste the salt from the water on my lips.

Despite the cooler temperatures, there were still some people walking around the shore. I scanned the dispersed crowds, looking for her in a child's smile, or in blonde hair waving in the wind, but I was relieved to see that there were no families here.

Most of the people here were surfers, who waited days for this weather and these waves so that they could surf in peace. I wondered if she would have been a surfer.

I had the sudden urge to remove my shoes and feel the sand between my toes. When I was here before, I remember how warm and soft the sand had been from the blazing sun. However, now it was cold and hard. It had been raining earlier that morning and so the sand was slightly damp.

I felt a kind of quiet peace come over me. No one here knew who I was. No one back home knew where I was. I didn't have to worry about sombre faces and whispered condolences. I didn't have to fear the phone ring or hear my husband's sobs. There is something liberating about being completely on your own, a stranger in a strange land.

I looked up and saw the cliff towering over me. I remember how that cliff looked that summer, when the waves were much calmer. I recalled how kids would climb up and jump in the water, defying their parents’ protests to get down. I would have let her jump. I would have cheered her on and rushed into the water when she landed, lifting her in the air and kissing her face.

I walked towards the cliff. I flinched as the water ran underneath my bare feet. I hadn't realized how shockingly cold it was. It seemed fitting – a tremendous body of water with water as cold as ice and waves powerful enough to pull a body under, surrounded by a beautiful landscape with a lush green cliff and sunny skies. How many people had been seduced by the sound and look of the ocean, only to be jolted right back to reality when its icy tendrils grabbed hold of their feet? How many mothers had been led to believe that they would watch their daughters grow into beautiful and successful women?

As I walked, I neared a group of three girls, all dressed in surfing gear. They were speaking animatedly and laughing, oblivious to the dangers of the waters they were about to enter. Their skin was sun kissed and they had wild, unkempt hair. They were beautiful. I found my gaze drawn towards the blonde girl and stared at her in wonder. I imagined that Jessa would have looked like her in ten years. The girl noticed me staring and I quickly walked away.

I had thought that leaving the country would allow me to get away from thoughts of her. Yet even here, half way across the world from where she had been born and died, I could still see her face everywhere I looked.

I was getting closer to the cliff, and a conversation I had with my husband here popped into my mind. We were joking, newly married and completely in love, and thinking of silly names for the baby growing inside me. At one point, he looked at me seriously and asked, "How about Jessa?"

It was perfect. Our perfect little Jessa.

I got to the edge of the cliff and suddenly longed to climb atop. I wanted to see the world how the kids all those summers ago had seen it. I wanted to see it for her, since she would never be able to see this view herself.

I started to climb and slipped when I first put my foot on the cliff. It was slippery from the high waves. But I took a deep breath and continued again. I could feel my hands and feet being cut by the rocks that were not meant to be climbed at this time of year. I slipped a few more times but continued on, wondering if anyone saw me, or if the blond surfer girl noticed me climb. I went higher and higher, knowing for certain that this was higher than people typically climbed.

Then I saw a ledge that looked large enough to stand on. I moved over, oblivious to the pain in my arms and legs. I reached the ledge and manoeuvred my body so that I could stand up. And then I looked down.

I was on top of the world, overlooking the beautiful sea. I could see the rough waves crashing against the cliff, the salt water tickling my face. I could see the groups of surfers getting ready to go into the water. I could see a little blonde girl waving up to me from below. And through the crashing of the waves, I could hear the wind whispering the same word over and over. Jessa.