It was early dawn sometime in mid-July. I drove up to Stamford to pay my grandparents a brief visit before my flight abroad. Stepping out of my car, I could smell the morning dew fresh off the grass, it soaked the soles of my shoes. I turned to peer down the road at the little hill of loose rocks. Beyond that, I knew lied the ocean. Unsure whether my grandparents had already woken up or not, I locked my car and began making my way to the hillside. I would give them time before interrupting their daily schedule. Once I reached the rocks, I scaled them to find the shore. Momentarily standing on the pavement before the sand, I slipped off my worn out converse to let my bare feet touch the cool ground. Days like these were rare, it always got so hot on the East Coast, especially during the summer months and whenever you went to the beach, the sand was so blistering that it would peel the skin off of the bottom of your feet. I looked out onto the stretch of sand. On the other side of where the hill stood was a small cliff looming over a giant rock filled with tide pools. My grandfather used to call it crab island because it was sort of isolated from the rest of the beach and we’d always find marine life there, usually pea crabs. Slowly walking towards the tide pools, a distant memory of me and my grandfather resurfaced. It was the year I moved to China, I was eight years old and we were hanging around the tide pools with my younger cousin and her sister. As we searched the water for crabs, I discovered a peculiar looking branch poking out from the sand. A seagull’s leg. Bright yellow and curved into a ball as if it were trying to hold itself or prevent itself from decomposing in the late August heat. I wasn’t afraid, I was fascinated, but upon noticing it, my cousins shrieked and we left the beach in a great rush. Sitting down in the sand before crab island, I pulled my knees up to my chest, my converse hanging on the edge of my right-hand fingers. There was a pleasant light breeze blowing against my face. I felt refreshed. I knew that when I walked back, my hair would curl against my head and smell of sea salt. My hair was never easy to tame, I quickly gave up on trying. The sky was light blue, almost white and, down towards the horizon, it was stained with hues of pink and blood orange. I smiled at the view and turned my head to imagine my love sitting beside me. I pictured him sitting like me, facing the ocean. He wasn’t speaking, but it felt as if we had just finished a long conversation and were now reflecting back on what we had said. I couldn’t admit to myself that the true reason for his muteness was that I had simply forgotten the sound of his voice. I didn’t want to forget him, but I knew that I would eventually.
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