The cry of seagulls brings it back. That hot and humid day by the seashore. The afternoon was ripe with the smell of sea salt and sweat. Tanned bodies, lean and engrossed, went busy with their sifters and buckets searching longingly for the treasure of some old dead pirate. The broken teeth of a hundred sharks washed ashore with shattered conk shells sedating their hopes. It was the ever growing festivity, to walk a mile down the mossy swamp and reach the far lighthouse where once a pirates ship had landed. And we were there, resting listlessly in the hot sun, baking as we fed our desires at natures lottery.
The sand dunes rose high like mountains, even now in my memory do I see them so large and ambiguous. Now as the years have went by I know that I could reach them with one leap, but then they were as high as Mount Olympus. We hiked them to the top and rode them down like the waves, collecting sand in the bottoms of our swimming suits. It stuck to me as glass sticks to sweaty fingers, clinging helplessly to my skin which was as dark as caramel.
The sound of the waves was tantalizing, hovering over the voices of everyone and I would stand at the top of the tallest sand dune and look across the ocean past the vast horizon spread out in front of me and I would imagine the loan pirate. I would see as far as my eyes would allow, the wind in my white gold hair, before I would grab a stick and slide down the sand dune to defeat the others in capturing it as my own.
The sun was falling, as I recall it. The seagulls shouted at the fish in the water. We had decided not to play the lottery anymore and left the others with their inquisitive stares at the ocean to best themselves on a better jack pot. We were walking across the shore and my eyes were on the small foamed crests being swallowed whole by the ever growing sea when I happened upon a magic wand. It was sitting right there just waiting for me! I looked around at the sand dunes, the sea and the horizon far far in the distance while the others pattered and wandered away. The magic wand was bold with it’s smooth features and twisted in a perfect spiral of white and silver speckles. It touched me, as the sun touched me, with a warmth and a knowledge I could not understand… but as I reached for it the sea came to swallow the crests and eat at the sand (after all it was dinner time) and just before my small delicate hands could grasp onto all the magic in the entire universe I heard my name being called up ahead by the others. In those moments that I turned my head, questionably at the name of myself (for at that time I did not know if that was who I was) I mused on my existence. And when I went back to the wand, shaking off the feeling of oddity, it was gone… eaten by the waves of a hungry ocean.
I stared blankly at where it was before standing in front of the mouth of a wave. It was coming to the shore to feed (as the tide feeds) and I refused to let it take away the magic wand. I was going to thrust myself into the wave and toss and turn with it searching, longingly, for the wand that was the source of all my desires. Again I heard that name, that I was not sure was my name at all, being screamed up ahead by the lotto players and my fellow pirates in neon swim suits. It was then that I turned away from the ocean, having ran a bit faster to catch up with the others, turning around and stopping just once at the question of whether the wand existed at all. The seagulls swooped down into the salty sea water, the sun fell down into the ocean, and I left the sand dunes to be claimed by another lost and lone pirate hoping to find treasure on that hidden shore.
Somewhere in the wide horizon there exists my magic wand that the universe had given me one day and that I had lost before I was ever able to touch it.