Personal Essay
I live in paradise — one that became my hell
I run down the beach, energy pumping through my legs, pushing me faster. This is the first time I’ve felt this way in more than a year.
The accident. The big secret. The things I cannot yet write about.
The earth is here for me today, as it is every day. For a while, it was my enemy. It was the beach that led to flashbacks of the accident. Holding my arms folded into myself. Trying to keep my bones intact.
A harsh winter. Full of pain and loss. Realization that my world will never be the same. That I will never be the same.
Today, I ran. The long late-day rays swept across the incoming tide. The waves shone as they crashed ashore, carrying the energy of near mid-summer.
The sand, often ashy, the colour one could truly call “sandy” — was golden. My feet pushing against a deeply sparkling beach. The primordial sounds my biological ancestors have known for more aeons than I can count rushing against my ears. Whitewater crashing as the blood flooded through my veins.
In the distance, the beach faded into the headland. The next headland appeared in the mist beyond it. And then the next. Until, past the island, there was nothing more than a grey shadow of the coast leading south.
