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MY PHONE RINGS, startling me out of my reverie. MOM appears on my screen. “Hi Mom,” I say with a trembling voice. I wish she was with me.
Mom speaks without preamble. “Your father is giving Kira an earful for letting you drive off alone. Are you okay, sweetie?”
“I’m p-parked right now. I haven’t k-keeled over from heartbreak yet. It hurts enough to f-feel as though it will kill me.” I don’t hide the sobbing in between my words.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry this happened.”
“P-please don’t be mad at Kira. Escaping f-feels good, like I’m leaving the problem behind me. It’s therapeutic. I’m in control of my l-life. Not Blu.” I don’t sound like I have a handle on anything except the steering wheel.
I despise when life happens to me. I like life to happen for me.
“Come home. I’ll make your favorite cookies and we’ll stay in our pajamas all day watching movies. You shouldn’t be alone.”
So tempting. How I wish time with Mom could cure everything the way it used to when I was a child. I take a deep breath, calming myself down. “Thanks, Mom. I think I need to handle this on my own. I need time to think things through, to figure out my life. I don’t know what happens next.” Time for some major soul-searching.
“All right, but if you change your mind, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.” Mom sniffles, her emotion over the day evident. “Where are you going? Do you know yet?”
It hits me then. I know exactly where I’m headed. One of my favorite spots in the entire world. My family spent many summer vacations there. It holds the happiest of memories. Some tourists are turned off by the name of the town. It’s the best-kept secret on the Oregon coast. While some days are misty and gray on the partly rocky, wind-whipped shoreline surrounded by tree-lined cliffs, it has plenty of sunny beach days wherein the gray sand turns white and glittery and the angry water turns turquoise blue, competing with a Cancun beach any old day of the week.
Well, not really. Okay, not at all.
In my mind it does. Regardless, it’s the magical summer getaway of my youth.
Decision made. “Misty Gray. My safe haven.”
Reassuring murmurs hit my ears. “You always loved it there. I’m not surprised. It’s the perfect place to heal. In the Victorian age, doctors sent patients to the seaside to recover. It’s exactly what you need. Nothing strenuous. Lots of rest and fresh air.”
I imagine saying,“Yes, Doctor So-and-So. I promise to lie around all day doingnothing. I’m sure my health won’t decline at all while I never get off my butt for weeks.”
Except sitting on a chaise lounge covered with warm blankets while staring at the angry ocean has its appeal.
Because I’m broken.
I feel like the dish Mom was holding the other night while cleaning the kitchen. One moment it was whole in her hands. The next moment, it slipped from her fingers, breaking into a million tiny pieces. There was no chance it would ever be whole again.
Is that me now? Will I ever be the same?
“How long until the hurt goes away?” I ask, my voice tiny. “My life feels like it’s over, like there’s nothing left for me.” I’m gasping for breath, but there’s no air. Is this the end or the beginning? The then or the now? Do I live for the past or the present?
“Listen, let yourself feel all the emotions. Cry and scream and rage if you feel like it. Face it. Don’t hide from it. Burying your emotions will only delay the pain. Eventually, the grief will subside, but it takes time. Ride the wave of your feelings. I’ve learned it’s the only way to cope.”
These emotions have tenacious claws. Will I be able to break free? “I’ll try.”
“Where are you? Let me come get you. I don’t think you should be driving.” Mom’s voice is thick with worry.
“I’m okay, Mom. I promise. Quiet time during the drive to the coast will do me good. It’ll give me some space to sort out my thoughts. I feel safe driving.”
With that, I forge ahead.
I’M CLOSE TOthe ocean. I’ve been catching glimpses of it for the last several miles. Just the sight alone is a balm to my aching soul, lifting a bit of anguish. I’ve made the right decision to come here. It feels like coming home. After growing up in Portland, I’ve always loved being only two hours away from the coast. It’s misty and gray today, which suits my mood.
I drive further into town, the sights familiar and comforting. Now the ocean is on the other side of the row of beachside homes. Only a few blocks further, and I’ll be at my favorite hotel, the one my family enjoyed every summer. It connects to the mile-long boardwalk, filled with all types of touristy shops, culinary delights, a merry-go-round, an aquarium, and so much more. As a child, I loved exploring all the boardwalk had to offer. Disneyland might be the happiest place on earth, but this place runs a close second.
Suddenly, my car jerks and sputters, as though it’s telling me it was only meant to drive as far as the airport, and it was certainly not part of the deal to drive a sad, jilted bride instead of a happy couple eager to start their new life together.
Then it dies, refusing to budge another inch like a stubborn mule. Luckily, I’m stopped in the middle of a sleepy residential road. The busy part of Misty Gray is just ahead. The few cars that happen upon me simply drive around and get on with their day, leaving me in their dust.
Like Blu. I am the dust in his wind.
