By Ash Cartwright
And so, the boy ran. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. His tiny feet pounded against the wet sand. His toes shattering the surface of the water, streaming in with the tide. Each step scattering droplets of water ahead of him, like tiny diamonds that then dissolved into the sand and pulled back out to sea. His legs were burning with the effort of running, but he didn’t care. He felt so free.
Finally, he came to a stop. He was panting heavily. He looked out towards the ocean, the seemingly limitless expanse of sapphire blue, sparkling in the sunlight. He could feel the harsh Australian sun on his exposed back and shoulders, cutting into his skin, but he loved every second of it. He looked up and down the beach, he looked behind him at the lifeguards in their red and yellow, with matching flags indicating the safe zone. He smiled as he thought this whole beach was his safe zone, for one reason and one reason only – he was here with his mum.
He watched her slowly making her way up the beach towards him, kicking a tennis ball along the sand to entertain their dog. The waves were splashing around her ankles, dampening the bottom of the blue sarong tied around her waist. Her long dark curls caught the wind, flicking across her face, strands of hair sticking to the sweat and sunscreen that glimmered in the sun’s rays. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, but she wore a gentle, soft smile as she looked ahead to the boy. He could see all the magic and wonder of the universe in his mum, and if the stories of angels were true, how could she not be one of them?
The boy was still so young, still had so much to learn about the world. Everything was a mystery to him. He could see the rocky cliffs of the headland, catching the waves, turning the glassy blue ocean into a brilliant white foam. He had no idea what lay beyond those cliffs. He had no idea what sat at the base of the trees peppering the footpaths that ran parallel to the beach. He had no idea what stewed beneath the waters surrounding him or what soared above the clouds. Such mysteries, such uncertainties, should fill a young boy with fear and trepidation. But he did not feel that. He watched his mum walk with such quiet confidence, such an all-knowing gaze, as if she could see beyond the horizon, through the clouds and into the stars.
Life is never a straight line, though the boy would not understand that yet. He was going to learn that parents are just people too. That everyone makes mistakes. That people can try so hard and wish with all their heart, but still not succeed. He was going to learn that no one is perfect, not even his mum, and he was going to learn that this was ok, that this was all a part of it. He was going to feel such crushing lows, and yet such exceptional highs. He was going to laugh until he could not breathe, he was going to cry until he could not see through the tears, he was going to scream until his face was red and his throat was raw. He was going to live. And even then, with the sand between his toes and the sun on his back, he knew he owed all this life to that incredible woman, casually moving up the beach after him. He knew that despite all the things he did not yet know, there was no reason to be afraid.
I’m a Creative Writing student, and for all of my life I have felt drawn to creative expression. From drawing, to acting, to filmmaking, to writing, using art as a means to communicate or engender a feeling or an abstract idea has made me feel connected to the tens of thousands of years of human evolution. After years of being held back by my own self-doubt and middling confidence, I am now trying to put some work out there and grow as a person and a creative mind. This piece is inspired by my late mum, RIP Dominique.
