![]() | No ratings.
Surviving the storm |
Sol had lived in his spot under the sand for what felt like forever. He didn’t count days. He counted waves. Some rolled in soft and sleepy, others came in loud and laughing. The tide was his clock, the sun his blanket, the moon his whisper before sleep. One afternoon, the water changed. It didn’t ask for permission. It just got darker, colder. The waves stopped talking and started shoving. Sol stayed where he was. Above him, clouds grew thick and bruised. Rain came hard, like a thousand pebbles hitting the surface all at once. The seagulls vanished. The crabs dug deeper. Even the jellyfish drifted farther out. And the wind? It screamed. The waves slammed the shore with fists instead of fingers. Sol’s soft bed of sand was suddenly being tugged and spun like sugar in a storm. Bits of shell, seaweed, and broken coral whipped past. For the first time in a long while, Sol wondered if he should move. But move where? He wasn’t fast. He wasn’t built for running. He was built for staying. For trusting the tide. For listening. So, he stayed. The storm shouted, “I’ll bury you!” Sol didn’t answer. The storm roared, “I’ll wash you away!” Still, Sol stayed closed. He remembered the quiet voice of the ocean on peaceful mornings. He remembered how it always returned after the anger passed. He held onto that memory tighter than the sand around him. The night came. Cold, wild, relentless. Water tore past his shell again and again, trying to lift him up and toss him somewhere new. Sol dug in deeper. Not out of fear but out of faith. And by dawn, the storm was tired. The wind faded first, mumbling its last complaints as it blew out to sea. The rain slowed to a drizzle. The angry waves calmed, like someone finally taking a deep breath after yelling too long. Then came the softest thing in the world: silence. The kind only the ocean knows how to offer. Sol opened, just a little. He let the first wave of the morning rinse over him, warm and calm. It carried whispers of sea grass, sunlight, and peace. The same ocean that had tried to tear him loose now cradled him again. A small fish swam by, eyes wide. “You’re still here?” Sol smiled to himself. “So is the tide.” |