Searching
by Aline Soules
A woman falls so in love with the sea cliffs she walks on every day that she changes into sea-foam to be closer to them. She thrusts out her foam tongue, licks the base of the rock like a lollipop, and laps the sand, but the cliff resists and stands as tall as ever.
So she woos the rock face with her subtle caress, and the rock throws her a few chips it can easily spare, dead limpets, and some drops of rain not yet evaporated into the air.
The daily grains of sand are pliant and sway with her rhythm. When children bring their pails and spades, and make shapes out of them, she washes on shore to lap them back.
At times, she is tired and rests in the morning until her surface turns to glass.
At times, she is so frustrated that she chops and spits, and no longer knows which way to turn. She rises up against the rock face, first one way, then another, until the seaweed in her wake tangles in its own threads.
At times, she rages, and her fury drags the weight of the sea up to lash the cliff. She spumes and roars, and vents her passion through days and nights, stopping only to rest in between. The cliff, exhausted from her beat, beat, beat, throws down a few more chunks and waits for her wrath to wane.
But most of the time, she persists, day after night after day, taking what little the cliff offers, not knowing what else to try. She sighs, breaks her bubbles against its black face, and basks in the sun that touches the hollows she has worn into the surface of the rock.
One day, a large boulder falls from above into her very center, causing her to splash with joy. She tumbles around it, smoothing its surface, making love to it with her salt tears. Then more and more of the cliff yields to her until it collapses, first boulders, then scree that skitters down.
Ecstatic, she roils and froths and kicks up her wet lace in celebration. Spent at last, she rests. The next day, when she looks and sees nothing, she runs up the flat shore and drifts back, shifting sand from here to there, searching.
On the fifth day, she sees patterns in her watery world. She feels an urge to push her body to the surface and break through. She sees her mother leaning over her and smiling. She hears her say, “Welcome.”