Hope

On the other side of the fog, Se’jus stood on the splintered dock with anguish and longing in her eyes. The breeze blew her sunset hair, as if in attempt to comfort her sharp features. No smile sat on her rose colored lips, only a slight tremble that extended to the corners of her eyes- glassy now with a hopeless glance. She loved Numah, and this emptiness wasn’t as easily filled as the sky was with its daily routine of making its bed with sheets of grey covers and cold climate.
Se’jus looked out to the sea, unable to find sight beyond the barrier of thick fog that seemed to show flattery in its imitation of her heart; once fulfilled with the sprinkle of spring showers in unity with Numah, now masked in a mast of mist and cold with his exile. Just as she was about to turn around and make her venture to a seemingly pointless sleep that only ended with another day to remind her of her absence, the wind picked up as if in crude conversation with her. “I am in no mood to chat,” said Se’jus aloud, and with the conversation seemingly over began to walk to her cottage.
With only a few steps to journey before reaching her cold cottage door, Se’jus was overtaken with grief that was full of joy. She suddenly remembered when and where she and Numah met-not quite out of her mind, merely hidden-and touching her stomach as if trying to contain
the butterflies that were building up and the overpowering nostalgia of love and loss. Se’jus remembered the ruins. This was where the foundation of her relationship was built, and still in sight. The site of the lighthouse. The site of the lighthouse ruins where they first took each other’s hands and committed them to unity.
Before she realized it, her feet were leading her through her memories as she walked up the path of sand and cold rock, through some scarce trees, to the lighthouse. It still stood tall, as she remembered, only half or maybe less broken off and lying on the ground. The lighthouse seemed to stand as a broken man, overlooking the ocean on a high hill, keeping his post, yet unable to fulfill his duty; discharged with honors perhaps. The old soldiers’ limbs were bleached from rain and winter, and shone a dirty white, not quite fulfilled in purity but not yet too far gone. A great sense of importance washed over Se’jus as the rain seemed to mimic her revelation, now teeming down in a regular rhythm. I will restore you sir, thought Se’jus, as she looked at the great ruins. You will be restored to your former glory and Numah, you’re coming home.