The Rising Waves of Doubts

I cannot understand this, so I went sulking to the ocean.

With the boys, seemingly-random incidents always happen. It was a clear Saturday afternoon, the sky was almost cloudless, and the seagulls were soaring high. It could have been a perfect voyage, but, like other could-have-beens, it was not. We docked early on the evening, and—sensing that the beach was turquoise blue—the boys immediately jumped ashore. They were very excited but I wasn’t at all. I sat alone on the wooden deck. “Well it’s only a matter of mindset,” thought I, so I tried to alleviate the sadness by reaching out for my guitar and began strumming. I tried E major but it wasn’t working. I tried A major but melancholy still loomed. I gave up.

I decided to just lied on my back, absorbing the late afternoon sunlight, watching the seagulls. The wave was pounding the shore when the boys went back on deck. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Just enjoying the sea.”

The wave pounded the shore again, louder than the previous ones. The boys went swimming again. I grabbed my orange juice and concluded that I cannot stand another battering.


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