of who I am! People are right to judge me.”
She blinked back tears, determined to keep control of her emotions.
“No,
Abby,” he countered, reaching for her hand, “they're trying to make sense out
of something horrible.Wanting to find an
explanation that makes it less random. I know. I've done it, too. But it
doesn't work. In the end, nothing changes what has happened, or who is to
blame.”
Abby's
eyes widened slightly as she studied him. His words triggered the therapist in
her. Was it possible he blamed himself for Rachel's death?
“Please,
come with me,” he invited. “Chloe’s at school and I have the day off. I want to
show you something, a place that’s special to me. I think you might like it,
too.”
The
last thing Abby wanted to do was go out and face the world. But the
psychologist Craig had awakened with his words, nagged her. Usually, the last
thing you want when you are depressed and anxious, is exactly what you should
be doing.
“Fine,”
she agreed, but didn’t seem overly pleased. Craig, thrilled to have her
consent, didn’t mind her hostility as he led her off the boat.
* * *
Chapter 8 ~ Where Gods Play According to the compass on his rear view mirror, Craig drove north, then a bit
west, pulling into a small off-road parking lot that seemed out of place. As he
exited the truck, Abby noted her surroundings. There were no amenities, no
benches, not even a garbage can. What have I gotten myself into? Craig
motioned her toward a small brown sign, a trail marker. She followed him onto
the path, her eyes glued to the trail, avoiding obstacles; she followed his
footsteps for several minutes. Abby stopped abruptly to survey their destination
and was completely taken aback. The trailhead led to a large expanse of sand,
reminiscent of desert; sand that seemed to go on forever. The hills and gullies
appeared to undulate, as though they were a creature responding to the whims of
the wind and the sea . As if the waves had
breached the sand, and with the help of the wind, molded the land; then
continued to roll. Abby had never seen anything like it, never felt anything
like it. It was quiet here, peaceful and serene, empty yet full. It called to
her...
The terrain was barren, sparsely populated with tufts of grasses and conifers.
Small pools of water – undoubtedly trapped by the sand – formed private little swimming holes. The air smelled crisp, clean and
salty; the distant sound of the ocean rushing, an inviting serenade. A gentle
breeze whistled a song to be felt, not heard. The sun warmed the scene just so,
complimenting perfection. Not a soul was in sight. Seagulls cackled overhead,
her only companions aside from tracks left by a cottontail long since gone, and
Craig. Abby sighed as she took in a deep breath of the cool, fresh ocean air.
She was lost in the moment and embraced it. A kindred spirit lived in this
place. It pulled her close to its bosom, and she wanted to stay.
Craig
reached for her hand. He tried to hide his surprise when she allowed him to
take it. Loosely clasp, together they walked to the peak of one of the larger
dunes, one with a perfect view of the beach.
“This
is where I come, sometimes,” Craig admitted, “when I need a reminder.”
“A
reminder?” Abby asked. She watched the way the ocean stretched out, unending.
The varied blues of the sky reminding her how vast their world was. It was
exhilarating to not feel trapped, or held down.
“Even
though the grief, the pain, the injustice of it all seems endless, in
perspective it’s just one grain of sand,” he spoke gently. Then he crouched
down, still holding her hand in his. With his other hand, he swept up a handful
of sand and held it out to her. She crouched down, joining him.
“To
us, the hurdles in our lives are as fierce and as huge as the ocean. But to the
ocean, our problems are as tiny as one grain of sand.” He glanced up at her to
see if she understood, or
She blinked back tears, determined to keep control of her emotions.
“No,
Abby,” he countered, reaching for her hand, “they're trying to make sense out
of something horrible.Wanting to find an
explanation that makes it less random. I know. I've done it, too. But it
doesn't work. In the end, nothing changes what has happened, or who is to
blame.”
Abby's
eyes widened slightly as she studied him. His words triggered the therapist in
her. Was it possible he blamed himself for Rachel's death?
“Please,
come with me,” he invited. “Chloe’s at school and I have the day off. I want to
show you something, a place that’s special to me. I think you might like it,
too.”
The
last thing Abby wanted to do was go out and face the world. But the
psychologist Craig had awakened with his words, nagged her. Usually, the last
thing you want when you are depressed and anxious, is exactly what you should
be doing.
“Fine,”
she agreed, but didn’t seem overly pleased. Craig, thrilled to have her
consent, didn’t mind her hostility as he led her off the boat.
* * *
Chapter 8 ~ Where Gods Play According to the compass on his rear view mirror, Craig drove north, then a bit
west, pulling into a small off-road parking lot that seemed out of place. As he
exited the truck, Abby noted her surroundings. There were no amenities, no
benches, not even a garbage can. What have I gotten myself into? Craig
motioned her toward a small brown sign, a trail marker. She followed him onto
the path, her eyes glued to the trail, avoiding obstacles; she followed his
footsteps for several minutes. Abby stopped abruptly to survey their destination
and was completely taken aback. The trailhead led to a large expanse of sand,
reminiscent of desert; sand that seemed to go on forever. The hills and gullies
appeared to undulate, as though they were a creature responding to the whims of
the wind and the sea . As if the waves had
breached the sand, and with the help of the wind, molded the land; then
continued to roll. Abby had never seen anything like it, never felt anything
like it. It was quiet here, peaceful and serene, empty yet full. It called to
her...
The terrain was barren, sparsely populated with tufts of grasses and conifers.
Small pools of water – undoubtedly trapped by the sand – formed private little swimming holes. The air smelled crisp, clean and
salty; the distant sound of the ocean rushing, an inviting serenade. A gentle
breeze whistled a song to be felt, not heard. The sun warmed the scene just so,
complimenting perfection. Not a soul was in sight. Seagulls cackled overhead,
her only companions aside from tracks left by a cottontail long since gone, and
Craig. Abby sighed as she took in a deep breath of the cool, fresh ocean air.
She was lost in the moment and embraced it. A kindred spirit lived in this
place. It pulled her close to its bosom, and she wanted to stay.
Craig
reached for her hand. He tried to hide his surprise when she allowed him to
take it. Loosely clasp, together they walked to the peak of one of the larger
dunes, one with a perfect view of the beach.
“This
is where I come, sometimes,” Craig admitted, “when I need a reminder.”
“A
reminder?” Abby asked. She watched the way the ocean stretched out, unending.
The varied blues of the sky reminding her how vast their world was. It was
exhilarating to not feel trapped, or held down.
“Even
though the grief, the pain, the injustice of it all seems endless, in
perspective it’s just one grain of sand,” he spoke gently. Then he crouched
down, still holding her hand in his. With his other hand, he swept up a handful
of sand and held it out to her. She crouched down, joining him.
“To
us, the hurdles in our lives are as fierce and as huge as the ocean. But to the
ocean, our problems are as tiny as one grain of sand.” He glanced up at her to
see if she understood, or
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