Victoria - Esme Fromhart
the rock I laid across left a cold imprint on my back, briefly engulfing me in the unforgiving January chill of my home state. I am brought back by the sound of
water lapping against the shore, lightly kissing the sand before receding into the distance. My eyes stuck to the tree above me, its branches bare and intertwined,
telling me a story I cannot yet understand. The salty air filled my nose, reddening its tip. It was warm for January. Victoria exists in a microclimate, untouched by
the harsh frosts of winter. I remembered our car rocking back and forth with the harsh winds as we drove down the desolate highways of South Dakota. I basked
in the unfamiliar warmth. A lighter clicked, its feeble plastic body attempting to sustain a flame despite the unforgiving blue breeze. Glancing to my right I catch
sight of the puny flame as Gaby delicately holds it to the cigarette hanging out of Elyse’s mouth. The orange of the flame sticks out like a sore thumb against the
deep blue of approaching dusk. I marvel at the sight, vowing never to forget this moment. I feel my life happening before my eyes, I see the love I have spent the
past 20 years curating, unfolding right in front of me; lighting each other’s cigarettes. I feel full. Elyse’s giggle echoes in my mind as she pesters Gaby for her
inability to articulate her thought that is likely too complex for any of us to understand. I become content with the knowledge that there are feelings in our minds
that we don’t yet have the words to define, an epiphany waiting to be had. A heron diligently treads across the shoreline; I wonder if she notices me too. She
pauses, searches the sky, and continues upon her journey. Disappearing into the distance, her small tracks the only proof of her existence, soon to be washed
away by the indifferent sea. A cigarette has made its way between my fingers; I’m talking as I hold it. Gaby and Elyse’s loving stares follow my mouth as I speak.
None of what I say is relevant, yet their gaze remains. I imagine their view of my reddened cheeks and unwashed hair tucked behind my ears, and I feel beautiful.
I lean my head on Elyse’s shoulder, thankful to be filled with a love only few will ever get to experience in their lifetimes. I sigh as an overwhelming excitement
for the future fills my chest. Moments like these are the reason we persist. I love you.
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Esme is a graduating senior.