To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) by Deirdre Riordan Hall Page A

wondering what kinds of creatures willingly
put themselves in water, stood on surfboards, and lived without grief.
    Ian
stood and deftly put his board under his right arm. “Wanna take a walk?” he
asked. Gentlemanly, he extended his arm to Kira and pitched his chin toward the
water. “To the sea?”
    Bemused,
Kira linked her arm in his and they walked down the beach, the seagull
overhead. Kira dismissed the familiarity of his gesture. She was ready for
something, anything, to carry her away from the intense pain mixed with
betrayal.
    Halfway
to the waterline, Kira paused at a vacant lifeguard stand to take off her shoes
while the steady wind whipped her hair. The old, irrational fear of the wild
landscape tugged at her, but she let the steady rhythm of the rolling waves
soothe her worries. She wiggled her feet in the sand and kept walking.
    “I
don’t know what I’m doing here,” Kira said aloud, questioning what to say to
her handsome escort and how to find her way back to herself.
    “The
ocean has a way of helping you figure that out,” Ian replied. When they reached
the shore’s edge, he set his board in the sand.
    Kira
took a deep, refreshing breath of the salt air.
    “I
take it you haven’t been to the water recently.” Kira shook her head and then
rolled up her jeans.
    “I
haven’t touched the ocean since I was nearly too young to remember. I visited
with my family a few times. My dad loved it, but we lived inland so we didn’t
go that often.”
    Ian
waded in. The protective layer of the wetsuit made him impervious to the chill.
“Feels good,” he said, smiling invitingly.
    Kira
edged closer, grimacing, as the cold, compacted sand where the water receded,
chilled her feet.
    “Just
a toe?” he teased.
    A
bigger wave surged in, and without realizing what it was going to do, it went
right up to her ankles. She closed her eyes. It felt like communion, holy
water, as if her feet were thirsty. The water was like taking a much-needed
drink, invigorating Kira from the bottom up. She jumped back onto the sand when
her mind registered the cold and the suspicious tendrils of seaweed neared her
feet.
    “It’s
not so bad,” Ian said beaming. “You’re nearly there.”
    By
Kira’s toes, something glinted in the water. Ian saw it too. He plucked up a
blue piece of sea glass before the waves washed it away.
    “That’s
good luck,” he said handing it to her. With a smile, she tucked the
sea-polished treasure in her hand.
    “I
can use some of that.” 
    In
the distance, a tangerine sun lit up the water as it pulled itself up over the
brim of what appeared to be the edge of the world.
    The
salty water lapped over Kira’s feet. The sand slowly lay claim to her soles.
She and Ian watched the waves, the surfers, and the sunrise beyond spreading
warmly over the water.
    “I
have to go,” Kira said realizing she did have to go to work whether she had
sandy feet or not. 
    “See
you soon?” Ian asked.
    Kira
smiled and said, “I hope so.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Part
2: Sweat
    “You
can’t stop the waves but you can learn to surf.”
    -Jon
Kabat-Zinn
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Eleven
     
    Getting
to work on time prompted Kira to jog back to her car. She’d packed work attire
to change into. Despite what still felt like an insurmountable wall of grief
rising up before her, Kira cared about her job. Without a dual income, paying
the mortgage along with a host of other bills, making ends meet looked like her
next challenge, but one she didn’t want to think about.
    As
Kira dashed into her office, her coworkers greeted her with uncommon delicacy.
Word must have gotten around that the up and coming on the Foster-Davis account
became a widow at twenty-something.
    As
Kira begrudgingly powered on Jeremy’s laptop, she noted to replace it as soon
as possible. She cut herself some slack; just a week ago, she was waist deep in
tissues, unable to clean