Friday flash

This return to Friday flash is brought to you by prompts by Amygdala:
Reckless, wasteland, clashing rocks

Waves of heat steamed their way off the concrete, pulling into the parking lot slowly before a gentle commune with nature. The beach was calling to me – had been for some time. The steam blistered through my flip flops and I was glad for a moment that I had made the decision to not go barefoot – your voice echoed in my head as I trudged past the vestiges of human habitation towards the rocks. You always knew what to say in a way that was nothing like nagging – more like a persistent concern. The voice of reason. Maybe that’s what it was all a long – that you acted as my conscious in an immoral world, spouting truisms and generic phraseology like it was drops of water to an animal dying of thirst in the desert. I smiled at the irony. I listened to you more than most, another conscious decision I had made when I was least conscious of it.

I dropped my towel and my water on the sand like discarded leftovers, unimportant in the grand scheme of things to make my way to where the tide was fiercest – a valley of clashing rocks, being rained on by torrent water, sweeping in unannounced but expected with every tug and pull of the receding and forthcoming waves. My flip flops joined the pile as soon as my feet hit sand – it was a sin to wear foot coverings of any kind in this place, although the rocks were jagged, and knew that I’d sustain more than a simple scrape on the tender underbelly of my feet. They used to be so tough – as a child, running barefoot through fields filled with thorns, through the dirt of the deserts, through cow manure, getting stuck at 3 years old and being hosed down before being allowed to enter the house only to go to bed without supper. Truth was, I probably wouldn’t have wanted what was being offered anyway. I climbed the rocks like a monkey to their highest peak, ocean wet and salty, knowing that one errant wave would knock me from my feet and send me into the unknown of an unforgiving sea, but not caring. I was being reckless with myself – but sometimes life called for a little carelessness. And the waves come. I wobbled on my feet but held my ground. It was about proving myself, about testing my strength that you said was there, but that I couldn’t yet see. I found balance there.

When I had enough, and the sun dipped low over the horizon and the air grew a slightly bitter chill, goose pimpling my damp skin, I turned back towards the car, seeing the city lights spring up in the distance. Then I turned back to the water. The city was a wasteland, not here. Never here