Chronicles of a Flower Child

Chapter Four: On the Beach At Night

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On the beach at night,

Stands a child with her father

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A man stood beside his daughter on the beach. The waves rolled in, breaking against the white sand that shone like glass under the moon. They both stood barefoot and watching the tide come in. The man said nothing and the small girl of only two was quiet as well. His hand held her hand gently. Reassuringly. And everything was peaceful and right.

In and out the waves came.

A salty breeze blew against them, tangling the little girl's red hair. She blinked tiredly.

And still the waves came in and out.

"It'll always be this way," The father told his daughter. "The waves will always make this noise. They will always flow in and out. This will never change."

The girl just smiled as the sand seeped between her baby toes. Her brown eyes watched the waves.

"No matter what they build here, the ocean was always here first, and it will always remain" He told her some more. "And it will be here long after we're gone."

The waves came in and out and the sound was a familiar lullaby to the toddler.

"One day you'll understand how important this all is," Her father waved an arm towards the ocean, the sand, the stars, and the moon. "One day you'll love it as much as I do."

The girl blinked again, the stars reflecting in her eyes and her red hair playing with the wind.

"You're important too, Layla," The father smiled. "Just like the wind and the waves and the sky."

The girl giggled, her small hand clasped tightly in her father's larger one as he led her down towards the water. She let the cool water meet her toes as she stumbled around in the shallow waves. Her father held tight, watching closely as she carefully walked. Foam and sand stuck to her skin as the water moved away.

"Again!" She squealed.

Hand and hand they walked down the beach, kicking up water and sand. The girl laughed and looked out towards the dark sea that seemed to stretch on forever. Dune pansies spouted and grew with each step she took, pushing out from the sand in the shape of her footprints.

Hand and hand they walked, heading towards home where the girl's mother waited. They passed no one and they didn't talk. The stars above blinked wildly and the breeze blew.

And still the waves came in and out.

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They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again,

The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure,

The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine

[-Walt Whitman-]

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Short. Sorry.