The Woman Who Wed The Sea

Georgia sat on the lapping shore at midnight, the moon was full and filled the sky with her bright glow. She was directly on the sand, close enough to the water that her bare toes were kissed by the waves. Georgia squished the warm wet sand between those toes, and her body swayed back and forth with the sea in a subtle dance. She didn’t retreat as the water rushed in with this motion, it was a yearning lean into the waxing tide. Her long greying hair blew in the salty spray. Her eyes closed against the sight ahead of her, the faint lines at the corner of her eyes crinkled.

Georgia whispered into the night, “Why is everything so much harder than it needs to be?”

The response came, an almost sympathetic sigh, as a sudden wave that rose above the rest rushed in and saturated her ivory capri pants to the knees. Georgia’s laughter rang like a bell, and her eyes popped open. There was nothing unusual about the sea, but the woman could feel a presence. A watchfulness.

“Is there someone out there?” her voice was cautious but hopeful.

When no response was forthcoming, Georgia shrugged. She had loved the water all her life and had been visiting this shore since she was a young child. She closed her eyes again and breathed in the marine air deeply, letting it out slowly.

“Did you know, that when I was in the third grade, I wrote a presentation about the sea?” she asked no one.

The anticipated flow of the tide was slower in return. Expectantly?

“I wrote about how I wanted to live in a house on the beach, wake up with the sea every morning and fall asleep to her music every night.” She chuckled a little at the memory.

“Tommy Barker shouted, ‘Why don’t you marry the sea if you love it so much?’” She smiled; her eyes still closed. She traced the fingertips of her right hand in the sand, drawing the St. Valentine heart.

“Silly Tommy Barker didn’t understand that I would have married the sea, that I would still love to be your wife.” The stillness that followed this statement was preternatural. Georgia could feel the abyssal quiet of the deepest trenches stretch to the surface. Everything inside of her cried to open her eyes, to look upon her conversation companion. But Georgia knew the sea and knew that it would be hasty.

Instead, she crawled to her feet and turned away from the shore. “Good night. I’ll see you again tomorrow. I’ll be thinking of you.” The abrupt spray that caressed the back of Georgia’s neck made her blush.

And so, Georgia kept her promise and returned every night that followed, holding her conversations with the sea. She told jokes, shared stories about her childhood, all with her eyes closed. She became more attuned to the moods of her companion, could interpret nuance and subtlety in every wave. Yet, the woman knew that it wasn’t time to push for the relationship to progress.

Until the next night of the new moon, when the stars were brighter than she could ever remember seeing them. There was a pregnant pause on every breeze, a curling tease to the waves that enticed Georgia to enter the water. After she told the sea of her day, she stopped for a moment and took a cleansing breath.

“May I ask a personal question?” The tide rushed in tentatively in response, just stroking her heels.

“Would you ever be in a relationship with someone like me?” The same timid response as the last question.

Georgia swallowed nervously, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered so wildly that her breath caught in her chest.

“Wo — would you marry me?” she whispered and opened her eyes.

The powerful, yearning wave that rushed in and swept Georgia away was all the answer she needed.