Diamonds by the Sea

I. Before That

It was a year before Papa came back. Before he would get really drunk and beat up Mama every night. Before Mama would sob gently so that she would not wake me up. Before I would close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep and listen to the murmuring of the sea as I heard only Mama's sobs. Mama sobbed really differently, it was never a massive burst-out, it was always tranquil  and serene, with gentle breaths mixed every now and then, almost comforting, only, it was heart-breaking. Sometimes she would walk along the aisle: I could feel her footsteps. Mama walked differently as well, she walked as if she were treading on a sheet of glass, she never took an unsteady step, she was always certain. And she would walk for hours and hours, hours and hours, and I would be downstairs, curled up in the sheets, counting her steps. At times I felt like talking a stroll myself, but I was really sleeping.

It was before Papa would ask his “baby girl” to fetch him another beer, and his baby girl would run out of the house wildly and slam the door so hard that the entire house was trembling. And the baby girl would run all the way up north to the tiny hill she would hang around all the time with tears coming from nowhere flooding her eyes. She cried a lot, but she didn’t seem to weep for something certain, something particular, at least she couldn't tell. “ It’s probably allergies.” That's what Mama used to say. Allergy it is, she thought to herself, lying down on the grass still covered in morning dews. She would spend her entire day there, feeling breezes washed between her ears and cheeks, sensing the fresh scents of the sea, and her eyes were covered with moist again. She was a baby, a ten-year old cry baby.

I was Papa’s baby girl.

It was before Sally, the newest born puppy, would sprint over the muddy fields and bounce up and down the floors and leave the spots all over the carpets and Mama would be angry.

Before Papa would enjoy a cigarette by the window and say things I didn’t really understand, like,

“ You’ve got to be tough, Alta, or else they’ll come and get ya’, but you ain’t got nothin’ to worry, your old man is back, they ain’t gonna touch you, baby girl.”

“ Be smart, Alta, but don’t be too damn smart, the world doesn’t forgive the stupid and the smart-asses.”

Before Papa would check on Mama’s bruises and apologize time after time with that look on his face. I liked that look. It reminded me of those grapefruits Mama used to bring me, a bit icy, those grapefruits tasted like sunshine: you took a small bite and all the sweetness would explode over your palate and mix up all over the place. Papa’s look was somehow like that.

Before  the night would descend and Papa would start his drinking, before he would be angry and started beating Mama. Before he would tire himself to sleep and I would be pretending to have fallen asleep and Mama would be sobbing all the way through the night with some footsteps heard ambiguously.

No, it was all before that.

II. Migrations

We moved all the time. We were moving in and out of bizarre places whose names I cannot even pronounce. They all seemed indistinct to me now. What I remembered the most was moving a lot.

Sometimes we would go by trains, sometimes by buses. And there were even a couple of times that we went by boat. Traveling by boat is a great choice. You do not have to put up with the noises coming from engines, you do not have to try really hard to ignore the snores and the clanks that seems to trap you. No, traveling by boat was nothing like that.

You could always go on the deck and fool around with the sea. The sea can be naughty occasionally, but he is a nice guy generally. The trick is, you’ve got to move along with his paces so that you won’t fall or feel dizzy. You can’t let him get on with it. The sea is too full of himself. I liked it when the boat would sail through different oceans, and each had their own texture: Atlantic, mild, Pacific, humble, Indian, grumpy… and I would picture what they would look like in real life. Traveling by boat is really a great choice.

There were three of us then: Mama, our dog Ruby and me.

Ruby was not a nice lady, we don’t blame her, though, no one ever told her how to behave, she was born and raised in the wild, and thus she behaved like a wild dog: that’s how things are supposed to turn out. Later we would find that her offsprings were only wilder than we could ever have expected, but then that’s a different story.

Mama is the most graceful lady you will ever meet. Talking to her is a treat, that's what people say. Mama talked to people from all walks of life: sailors, dealers, street artists and elders who seem to have drowned in history. She has her own way of conversing: she never talked much, she just listened with great patience. She wouldn’t judge or pity. She would just quietly listen to their stories. “ It’s really a gift, Alta,” she would talk to me around dusk,“being able to communicate with people.  Politicians make a giant fuss about it, but it’s never that complicated, is it? ” She would turn over to me and push a grin out of herself, “ you’ve just got to listen, baby girl. And you’ll be rewarded with the best treasure there is: stories of their life.”

We harvested a lot of treasure along the journey. Some are bitter and gloomy, some are just meant for joyful days. Mama and I would rate for our favorite once in a while: first it was the Portuguese and his cats, then it was the American guitarist, soon replaced by the young couple who traveled literally all over the world…we never had a fixed favorite. But we did enjoyed ourselves retelling them once after once. A bit regretful, though, for we never quite managed to meet these interesting people ever again.

I never knew why we had to move so frequently, and I never asked. It’s a thing between Mama and me: we both had faith in each other and in mystery.

We knew only that we moved all the time, and this is what we do.

III. The  Great Settlement

I used to read about Christopher Columbus. I bet he was really depressed when he found America ( or as he was convinced, India) Cause then he knew that a great voyage had to end.

I was a bit shocked when Mama finally broke this across with me, “ Alta, have you ever imagined settling down for a while? Living in a house of our own? And you’ll probably go to school like all the other kids do. And we’ll find Ruby a good partner and they’ll have lots and lots of puppies…”

Mama depressed me. She said it as if it were a choice of breakfast, or whether or not we should  have drop by some unknown islands for a brief visit. She sounded as if she had been planning for this for a long time, and it all seemed so factual and realistic and I could almost picture myself dressed up in school uniforms and waving goodbyes to Mama. And Mama will probably work in a bank and she’ll meet me up right by the school gate every day…

But this wasn't us. We traveled along the tides of the ocean, we caught messages through winds. We listened to the echoes of our heart in hollow canyons. We slipped through the skies of deserts.  We were sons of the sun. We never settled.

“ Sure, Mama, I’ve been thinking about that for a while now.”

Why would things come to an end? Has it ever occurred to Christopher that he could have just drifted on the ocean forever and never have disembarked on America? He might never be known as the “Christopher Columbus”, but he’s got his crew and his ship, most of all, he had his ocean. America would only have to be found by someone else, but things would probably work out their own way.

I asked Mama the question.

“ Well, Alta,” she looked through my eyes and seem to be stuck with her thought, she mumbled to herself for a while,“cause most people are born to be mediocre. They are cowards. They scare the crap out of themselves at the thought of eternity. They are comfortable with numbers, once you put a number on them, say, a week, a month, a year, or a decade, they've got something to hope for, something to feel sorry about, something to be happy for, someone to be angry at. People wish for an end, whether or not glamorous, they’d like to learn that such an end does exist. People are horrified at even the slightest thought of eternity, it’s too long…way to long for a man…” her bottom lip quivered a bit, “ and the funny thing is, most of us can never make it to the end of anything.”

It was months later when we finally agreed that it was only fair to pick out a random country in our “been-to” list: We both had faith in each other and in mystery.

Our list led us to the Gulf where we had our first encounter of our future home. Only 200 yards from the coast, the house was deserted for years before we both fell in love with it after first glance and decided to call it our home ever since. It was situated halfway over the hill in garments green, sprinkled with daffodils and jasmines greeting us with delight under the damp light of a cloudy dawn. The sea celebrated our arrival by dying the grass a nice layer of bluish frost and speaking to us the softest language that the Atlantic had to offer. We didn’t notice any of the crooked pillars or the squeaky floors or those windows that just wouldn’t shut. It was like a déjàvu, sacredly glowing upon us, like somehow it was written in our fate that this is our terminal.

Maybe it was our fate. I'd like to think that it was all the traveling that led us to where we are today, every piece of land we ever stepped on, every ocean we ever sailed through, every person we ever talked to, they all contributed to where we are, and who we are today. Whichever path we might have chosen, there’s no stopping us from becoming who we are and getting where ought to be.

I guess that’s the eternity that people fear.

IV. Getting Educated

Days slipped through us like the scent of a well-sliced pineapple discarded somewhere in the corner, you’ll never quite notice it before its disappearance. Summer breathed in the last bit of April and popped up dazzling blossoms nearing our corridor. Blossoms that we couldn’t even name. Things were all wet and thriving in summer, romantic as well, we were literally living our wildest dreams in summer. Summer is a good season for dreams and naps.

It took us a while to settle down and blend in with the local. There weren’t many residents adjacent, all the daily necessities came from a small village a mile to the South. We had to make a couple of visits there to get all the things we needed, thankfully, a couple of local lads offered to help moving things around. They were nice people, the locals, they speak this mild, elegant language where no one has to rush himself or emphasize, almost melodic, they would nod their heads a bit and kindly offer you a drink. That's the language they speak.

It was weeks later when Mama finally had time to ponder on my business,

“Hey Alta, would you prefer to go to a public school or a private school?” Mama was burning her toast again, “ I guess the private ones could cost a fortune, but you’re supposed to learn more personally.”

“ Why do I have to go to school, Mama? Am I misbehaving myself?”

“Of course not, darling, why would you think that? You are probably one of the best daughters a mom could ever wish for, Alta.”

“ Then why am I going to school, Mama?”

“ See, honey, going to school is not a punishment…it’s more like a treat… a treat you’ve never quite had the fortune to enjoy before, and now we’ve settled down, I thought that you deserve to have this treat…that’s what a normal nine-year-old little girl should be doing: going to school and doing researches, getting As and Fs… you should not be traveling so frequently…”

“ But you could always teach me, Mama, right? What’s wrong with you teaching me?”

“ Well, Alta, to be honest, I never should’ve done that. I am not a professional teacher, and you should be bonding with other kids more…”

“ Am I REALLY going to school, Mama?”

“ I’m afraid so, baby girl.” Mama looked at me with fixed determination.

Later that night, Mama admitted to me that it was a stupid idea: going to school. She asked me to forget everything she mentioned in the conversation and pretend it never happened. And she gave me her pinky promise that she would be teaching me until she runs out of material, which I assume could take a long time.

I knew it all along! How are people supposed to get educated locked up in a stuffy room all day long? Painters should be outside painting, dancers should feel free to dance, chefs should be in the kitchen, and mathematicians should be given their own office so that they won’t be bothered during some serious thinking.

School is never the way out, at least not for me.

V. Playtime

Mama was a great teacher; she might not be the best, but she was my favorite. Slightly unfair to me, though, that she got to decide the schedules. It was always math in the morning, and then sciences: chemistry, physics, botany, geography; sometimes we would take a walk through the woods up west for a savage hunt, usually we were greeted with a variety of unexpected discoveries, and whatever our discovery might be: an odd-looking twig, a squirrel hoarding up a pile of chestnuts, a family of spiders at their construction site… Mama was always able to tell me a thing or two, it seemed that Mama knew about anything, anything at all, my Mama.

Math was a bit boring, sciences were great once you are allowed to go out and feel the nature around, but what I loved the most, was the literature classes in the afternoon: Mama insisted that we should be reading together every day for at least three hours, and so did we. We would sit in the armchairs at the corridor, facing the sea, allowing the tail of afternoon sunlight gently bounce upon the edge of our books. The tides would simmer down inside the big blue and the wind would ease the whistling woods. It seemed that the whole world were rooting for these three hours, the three hours we sat beside and read.

Where we read the great minds of Shakespeare:

“ But if thou live, remembered not to be,

  Die single, and thine image dies with thee. ”

“ When I consider everything that grows

  Hold in perfection but a little moment,

  That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows

  Wheron the stars in the secret influence comment. ”

The gentle whisper of Shelly:

“ Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude

  To live alone, an isolated thing?

  And care for none; in thy calm solitude,

  A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rude

To Zephyr’s passing wing? ”

“ A heavy weight of hours has chain’d and bow’d.

  One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. ” 

We would sit there quietly for hours until the first glare of dusk climb up our cheeks and soak everything around us deep into golden brown. And then one of us, usually Mama, would turn to the other and our sights would meet.  Our sights swam across oceans and continents and met each other in this very second of the universe, and that’s the one second that counted.

Late in nights, when either of us failed to fall asleep, we would put on jackets and sneak out on tip-toes. We would sit down in a huddle along the coast and the sea would send us a breeze so soft that you can barely notice.

“ Remember that American guitarist we met in Barcelona, Alta? He told us that the minute that one stops traveling is the minute that one dies,”

We would lie down in sand,

“ On the contrary, baby girl, that’s the minute one starts to live.”

Glittering stars looked down into the deep blue, and found that they looked just like diamonds streaming under a wash of light.

VI. About Mama

We were up north on the tiny hill, Mama, Ruby, her boyfriend Lucas and me.

It was right after a poring rain that went on for two days, everything: the lawn, the flowers, the leaves, the honeybees, they finally got a chance to breathe. When you go out after a rainy day, you’ve got to listen real carefully, you’ve got to quiet yourself down and listen, and you’ll hear the breaths of dirt, the murmurs of bees, the twitters of birds, the whisper of the woods: everything is trying so hard to live.

We sat next to one another, Mama and I. Ruby was gone chasing her boyfriend, she was still wild as a mustang. Mama took out a couple of peanut butter and jam sandwiches and a few muffins she made earlier, we were literally living the life of Winnie the Pooh.

“ You ever wondered, Alta, why were we moving all the time?” She took a bite, and then I took a bite. “ Why were we wandering all over world and never settled?”

“ Why wouldn’t your dad come along with us, or just drop by and say hello to you?”

Papa was never there. Every country we’ve ever been to, every person we’ve ever talked to, he was never there. Frankly, what he left me, was a mere figure from the only photo I had of him. We never talked about Papa, that’s what I’ve learned throughout the years, every time I tried to bring it up, Mama would seem a bit annoyed thrust me with other topics. I guess Papa was not nice to Mama, then.

“ I should have told you all this a long time ago, but I thought you were too young for all that… I still don’t expect you to understand everything now, but I feel it is better for you to know.” She looked right through me as if I wasn’t there.

“ You see, your dad was the perfect man in the entire universe. And I’m not just talking about any random guy that came along, no, your dad was the best of the best. He was sweet, considerate, caring, romantic, humorous. He was the perfect guy I ever wished for.”

“ We were both twenty-one, we were so young and reckless, and we were so in love and had no idea what was waiting ahead of us. Then, late in July, that year, I found out that I was pregnant.”

“ I totally freaked out, I just couldn’t imagine what life would be like with a baby around. It all just happened so soon, like overwhelming, you know what I mean, Alta? Just too soon that I didn’t even enjoy my youth. I said to myself, you can’t have a child now, your life will be totally worn out. And then a couple of days later, I decided to have an abortion.”

“ An abortion, baby girl, is a medical approach to get rid of the baby. It was a tough decision for me, but I’ve made up my mind. So, I told Jake, your father that I was pregnant. He was so happy and bursted into tears and jumping and dancing in hysteria all over the room.”

“ Then I told him that I was going to have an abortion. ‘You are kidding, right, honey? I know it’s gonna be hard but I’ll be there for you, this is gonna be a lifelong memory, love, and we are gonna be the coolest parents ever.’  I told him that decisions are decisions, we are not having the child.”

“ We end up having a huge argument, the only argument that we ever had. The last word he ever spoke to me was “you selfish child-murderer”. So then I went back to my parents, we didn’t have phones then, and he didn’t know where my parents’ was, I never showed up at school again. I literally disappeared from his world.”

“ And that baby, Alta, was you.”

Tears kept flooding on and on, and I just couldn’t hold them back. I wished I could look into Mama’s eyes and see that this was just a bad story that she made up, and then I’ll be laughing hard while crying and I’ll walk up to her for a hug. But there was only determination, a look of honesty. And I was the only person wailing.

“ Yes, Alta, I am the villain in the story, I truly am. After all these years, your dad could still conclude me in a two-word phrase.”

VII. Any Minute Now

Mama kept me at last. Her parents talked her through somehow. But she never went to see Papa again, not even once. She’s got a couple of friends at school that she met every now and then, her friends would be reporting to her how Papa’s been doing.

“ I’ve never seen a sadder man, Vivian. He's crying his heart out. He's devastated, totally worn out. He said you were his love of life and he’ll come back to you at whatever cause. Are you still sure about this?”

“ He graduated with a straight-A, got a job at the bank, but he’s still not seeing anyone.”

“ That man is serious about you, Vivian, what’s going on?”

Mama never answered any of these questions.

Turns out, Mama was Papa’s love of his life. He kept waiting for her all these years. Later on, Mama gave him an address that he could write to, he just kept on writing and writing. One letter a week, for nine years straight, and Mama didn’t reply to any one of them. He would write about all the things that’s happening to him, all the happiness and sadness embedded in his life, it was just like a conversation, only it was a one way conversation. You don’t know how the other one is feeling, you don’t even know if the other one is listening. But Papa kept writing regardless of seasons, moods, or time.

It was me, that changed her. That's what Mama said. When I fell asleep in her arms, talk meaningless yet wonderfully poetic things and walk around and feel curious about anything at all, Mama was always surprised at each move that I made.

“ And the best part is, I get to show you the world the way I knew it.”

When I was four, she decided that I need something special for my childhood, so she took me on a worldwide tour, and that tour went on for five years. She never told me why we were traveling, or where we are going for the next stop. It was always an unknown each day. What a life we lived!

But it wasn’t for Papa. He knew for sure that Mama was not going to write back. He has kind of accepted it as a fact. What he didn’t know was that he had a nine-year-old daughter who’s been kept away from him the whole time. And the daughter barely knew him until two days ago.

These days I cried a lot. Just talking to myself or watching Ruby fetching the twig or hearing what the sea had to day, I’d just feel these burning drops of liquid streamed along my cheeks. I held the photo in my hand, it was a sweet photo of Mama and Papa together, Papa was smiling like the happiest man on earth, so was Mama. They were young and neat and all dressed up. I just looked at them, the merry couple, and there came my tears again.

We didn’t talk to each other that much any more, Mama and I. We kept having the classes together, kept reading together, but it all felt slightly different to me. “Wouldn't it just all be the same that Mama loved me and cared for me all the time?” I tried to convince myself. “She’s too elegant and too graceful for something like that. She couldn’t have done something like that.” That’s exactly when I learned for the first time that beautiful things and people are meant for flaws. They are just too beautiful without flaws. Flawless things just don’t belong to this planet. It’s hard to define something with one word, for most of the times, being a human means being good and bad, kind and evil, sweet and cruel. These contradictions are bound within us, and embracing them is just being who we originally are.

“ You know how I decided to settle down, Alta?” One day at breakfast, Mama broke the perfect silence, “ I just looked into the deep blue ocean, and asked myself, ‘when is this traveling ever going to end?’ What I’ve seen there was endless paths that I could have taken, endless places that I could have been to, but there just isn’t an end for all of this. You know what it feels like, Alta? Not seeing the end of something? That's the day I found out that I was just like any other mediocre man that freaks out at the name of eternity. And I knew we had to settle down and start living like a normal human being.” She finished up her toast and wandered seemingly aimlessly around to the sink,

“ Anyway, I wrote to your dad a few months ago, and he could be here any minute now.”

VIII. Arrival

It was a rainy Sunday morning. I was out walking Ruby and Lucas up the hill, the little raindrops drizzled down my forehand and nose, enlightening me with some refreshing scent of grass and dirt. Ruby just gave birth to a puppy whom we decide to call Sally, and seemed a bit absent-minded in this traditional morning walk. I wasn’t fully concentrated, either. All the information was available to me all of a sudden, I assume I could take a while to process them.

A black figure emerged on the other side of the hill, it seemed ambiguous to me at first, then I realized that it was heading towards me, then, before I got a chance to notice, the figure was close enough that I could tell it was a middle-aged man with a suitcase in his hand. He had a beard that covered his entire chin, his eyes looked weary yet fierce in some way, his face was pale as a clean palette. His entire body was quivering and it seemed that he could barely walk any more, but he managed to run all the way up the hill.

“ Are you Alta Smith?”

“ Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

“ You really are Alta Smith? Your mother is Vivian and you have a dog called Ruby, is that right?”

He seemed to be losing his breath saying all of this,

“ That’s very true, sir, do you need my help?”

“ Oh Lord,” He cried out in tears and started kneeling down facing the glooming sky of clouds,

“ I’ve found you, baby girl! I’ve found you at last! ” He bent his head over towards my face and rubbed his rough figures against my cheek, and I thought I started to understand what was going on, “ Just look at you, how pretty you look! They all don’t believe me, but I always knew I had a beautiful daughter, I knew it all along…” he was choking himself and couldn’t finish up his own sentence. He made a sound between a laughter and a moan that echoed on and on through the hollow air upon us, and there came my tears again.

“ Papa?” I stuttered.

“ Yes, baby girl, yes. Yes! Yes…” He lost his voice again, he dropped his suitcase and held me up on his shoulders, he had some strengths, “ I’ve got you, Alta, I’ve finally got you… Lord, what have I done to make my own daughter treat me like a total stranger…” he mumbled to himself.

Up there on his shoulders, I felt a passion that I’ve never felt before, bouncing up and down the hills, even Ruby couldn’t figure out what was going on. Neither could I. Just a flash of instant, my Papa showed up and called me his baby girl. My tall and powerful Papa who has been kept away from me for almost ten years.

It’s all getting mixed up together, only a few weeks ago, we were rumbling on the Sea trying to make conversations with an old grumpy man, then we made our way the lonely side of the world and settled ourselves for the good. We read about great souls and felt like the chosen of God cuddling alongside the coast. Then all of a sudden, I had a Papa.

It’s all getting mixed up together, the little pieces. The rain never quite stopped, nor did tears.

VIIII. About Papa

Have you ever dreamt about something for such a long time that you dare not even think about it anymore cause you are afraid that it might just disappoint you?

Turned out, Papa had serious alcoholic problems. Whenever he missed Mama, whenever he started writing all these lonely letters, whenever people around him called him a lunatic, he started getting himself drunk. Just a bottle after another, one after another, until he could not feel a thing or recognize himself in the mirror.

“ What could I have done, Alta? I was thirty and all alone, and I couldn’t get into contact with the love of my life, what could I have done, Alta? ” He grabbed another beer from the fridge, “ So then I drank, until I lost my conscious, that’s when all of your problems will no longer be problems. And I got addicted to this poison, I couldn’t live without it…” this was his third beer since the morning.

“ But now, Alta, I’ve got my love back, and I’ve got you, my baby girl. I am now the happiest man on earth.” We walked along the beach, down the hill, and in the house, we liked walking next to each other. Walking with Papa was different. Mama would slow herself down a bit just for me to keep up with her pace, but Papa simply took strides, I had to hasten myself a bit just to hold his hand tight. “ People called me a wuss, Alta, for not letting go of it after all these years, for being reminiscent of the old days when Vivian was around, for writing to a hollow address every week without even the slightest hope of receiving a reply,”

He bent down to me, and patted me on the cheeks,

“ That’s not being coward, Alta, persisting in someone you love, something you like. Even though you know you are against all the odds, and that the whole world is upon your shoulders, and that people around you start to give you a look of pity and disappointment. And that there’s probably no other way around……No, that’s the sweetest and bravest devotion that one ever has to offer. Many of us lived through life and never bump himself into a feeling like this, the furious and enthusiastic feeling. That's something to regret about. ”

Mama looked a lot more relaxed than she used to be. She's comfortable around Papa, she would laugh more and smile more, and Papa was the sweet man who would always make the conversations easy. He really was what he was described as when he was somber, humorous, caring, considerate, name whatever quality you wish for, and it will be in his possession. They make a great couple together, just like the one in the photo I held. Mama made a giant mistake, I think she knew it.

Then when the nights dropped on the land of silence, a stranger would slip in as Papa. He would become a wild animal that preys on fear, a machine of anger. He will be cursing and smashing things with thundering strengths, and crying and laughing all at once, “It’s all alcohol.”Mama explained to me, and I would be three feet away, observing this man I love turning into something I dare not even recognize. That's when I decided for myself that I would not touch even one sip of alcohol in my entire life, if it devours someone as sweet as Papa, how good can it be?

Sometimes, I will be down in my room, curled up in sheets, and the shattered sounds of Papa hitting Mama would just come to me through winds. The young couple that traveled around the world, the American guitarist, their images and voices, they all came back to me, it was a sense familiar yet strange, like an acquaintance you no longer know. Now I hear Mama’s sobbing, and her footsteps first in the bedroom and then down the stairs, finally along the aisle.

I should have got up and accompanied her, but I felt a million tons heavier as if sticked to my bed. Papa’s already asleep, snores could be heard.

X. Diamonds by the Sea

For a couple of days, I refused to talk to anyone. My classes with Mama were laid off, and I wouldn’t enjoy walking with Papa any more, however he tried to apologize. I’ll leave my heart at the door and wander into the world outside.

The tiny town was a great destination, where people are nice and simple and courteous to one another, the least thing I needed then was complexity. I’ll sometimes try to communicate with the young lads with my poor Spanish and their half-way English, turned out, language was never a problem for communication, as long as one holds a genuine thought.

The hill was another choice, where I was followed by wind or Sally, depending on her mood. I would just sit still and feel the horizon dissolve into a pool of blue, and then into dark shades of grey and glittering stars started to reveal themselves.

Aren't humans an amazing species? I always thought about that these days, I came from knowing nothing at all sailing around the world to where I am sitting now armed with conundrums. We are such a contradicted kind of creature. A dog, or a cat, you could tell exactly when they are happy or sad or angry, but we never seem to settle with one sentiment at a time. They always come in as a package, happy and sad, desperate and hopeful, defeated and strong, we are a living contradiction.

And yet, that’s what made our lives so much more diverse and shinning than ever before. To think tough and act soft, to talk gentle and fight hard, our instincts completed us as a multi-dimensional sculpture rather than a picture in the frames. They create wonderful collisions that may induce miracle or disappointments, but it’s the uncertainty that adds to its beauty. Like all the people we’ve met along the way, they are all just part of this journey one is ensured to undertake, other than that, whichever way you take, whichever choice you make will only bring you to somewhere unknown.

And my guardians, Mama and Papa, regardless of what they did, who they are, are the two individuals that share the closest memories with me. Like the night we saw all the stars and their reflections in the deep blue, and how they looked like diamonds by the sea.

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