Page 62 of The Rhythm of their Souls

He responds to my gesture by gently grabbing my chin and pulling me in for an intimate kiss. After pulling away, he caresses my cheek and says, “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

I return his words with a soft smile, take a deep breath before exiting the car.

The night is eerily calm, blanketed by a sky adorned with shimmering stars, and there isn’t a single soul in sight along the deserted beach. The late October air is crisp and invigorating, prompting me to pull my arms tightly around myself for warmth.

As I dig my toes into the cool, slightly damp sand, I find a strange comfort in its softness, grounding me in the moment.

In this tranquil setting, my mind drifts back to a vivid memory of Nora beside me. I can almost see her infectious grin lighting up her face. With boundless energy, she dashes toward the ocean’s edge, her laughter ringing out like music as she kicks up clouds of sand behind her. She twirls with such joy, her long, curly hair flowing freely, catching the wind as if it has a life of its own.

The recollection brings a smile to my lips, but a deep ache in my chest, a reminder of what once was, and the warmth of her presence that I long to feel again quickly accompanied it.

I find a spot to sit in the soft sand, gently placing my small bag beside me while still holding the urn close to my heart. I take a deep breath, inhaling the salty night air as I absorb the ocean’s deep hues, the moonlight casting a gentle glow on the waves.

Nora always loved the ocean, just as I do. This place was our sanctuary, offering a sense of peace that often eluded us back home. When we were together, even for a fleeting moment, all our wounds seemed to fade away. I glance beside me, imagining my beautiful sister sitting there, her feet buried in the sand, arms wrapped around her tan legs, lost in thought as she gazes out at the horizon. The memory of her presence brings both warmth and heartache, reminding me of the bond we shared.

I level out a place in the sand beside me and gently place the urn on the ground. Reaching for my bag, I pull out my phone and Nora’s leather journal.

I place it on my lap, running my fingertips along the brown leather. I haven’t opened it since the day I went through her box of things. I thought about it long and hard, deciding that a part of remembering her on her birthday would be to reminisce about the raw memories that she felt and expressed on paper.

I take a deep breath while turning on my phone. Then, I open Nora’s journal and scan through the pages. It was filled with memories that meant something to her. I read through one dated back to when she was in high school; she had just met Jake a few days prior. And she was rambling on about how nervous and giddy he made her feel. I found pages talking about our nights in the treehouse as kids and the times we played hide-and-seek for hours.

So many happy memories fill the pages of this journal.

As I approach the end of her journal, a page catches my eye. I flip back to it. There’s no date, but at the top, it reads, “My sweet Olive Oil.”

My throat tightens at the sight of my nickname in her writing.

Taking a deep breath, I start reading.

My sweet little Olive Oil,

Where do I begin to express how thankful I am to have you as my little sister? I still remember when Mom found out she was pregnant with you. I was so excited to have a baby brother or sister. I prayed every night that you would be a girl so I could play with your hair and dress you up like my own personal doll.

We didn’t find out your gender until you were born. I remember the nurse bringing me into the room, and I was jumping with excitement. Mom was cradling you in a yellow quilted blanket. I stood on my tiptoes to get a better look at you. As soon as I saw your little chunky face, I knew you were a girl.

I will never forget the first time I held you at the hospital, right after you were born. I looked down at you and realized that I was your big sister and that I would always protect you as best as I could. I can’t express how proud I am of you. I always knew you would grow into a strong, beautiful woman. Even in my darkest days, you were the light I always needed.

From the very moment I held you as a child, you saved me in so many ways. I hope you always know that no matter what, I will always be there for you. I love you to the moon and back.

Love your big sister,

Nora Ray

Tears flood my eyes as I read the words Nora has written to me. I search the page for answers, hoping she just wanted to express herself in that moment.

Her words of admiration envelop me completely. I glance back at the ocean, trying to focus on the sound of the crashing waves. I close the journal and put it, along with my phone, back into my bag. Wiping my eyes, I stand. It’s time.

I lean down, carefully gather Nora’s ashes, and begin my slow trek to the shore.

Cold chills run up my legs as the salty water washes over my feet and ankles. I cradle her remains in my arms and look up at the moon. It stares back at me, bright and ethereal. I let Nora’s voice resonate within me, remembering every little detail about her: her laugh, her smile, her annoyed expressions, her scent—every feature flows through me as the moon casts its comforting glow around me.

After all this time, I finally understand. Nora is at peace and has returned to where she was always meant to be. The night the moon called her home was the night her soul was set free from all the pain she endured.

Every happy moment and memory cradled her as she journeyed to her rightful place. In my heart, I now know that one day I will see her again. For now, she is with me every time the moon shines.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I descend further into the ocean, stopping where the water reaches just above my knees, soaking my jeans. I twist the lid off her urn and gaze out at the vast sea. As I softly whisper words to my beloved Nora, reminding her of how much I love her, I slowly pour her ashes into the ocean. I watch as they dance along the salty water. A light breeze blows through my wavy hair, and for a moment, I feel Nora close to me.

As I gently pour the last bits of her ashes, a soft breeze picks up, swirling them gracefully in the air. I take a moment to watch as they dance around me, and for just an instant, I can smell Nora’s favorite perfume. In that fleeting moment, as the final remnants of her ashes rise toward the moon, it feels as though Nora is reminding me that she is still here with me and always will be.