Francine & Margot ✓

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Francine,

Do you remember the day we met for the second time?

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I remember it better than I remember every other moment in my life.

The air was cool and I hadn't seen you in years, but even so I knew it was you. And as the sun set, even though I knew, I couldn't believe it.

The sea was brilliant, blue and violent and crashing with longing. It was angry and lonely, reaching in all directions as if desperate to swallow something for the sake of finding company.

The sky, however, was modest, embarrassed by the sea. It was blushing with soft orange and pink clouds, strewn across its pale face like downy feathers.

You were just standing there, above the water, below the sky, in your yellow Sunday dress with her dark hair falling over her shoulders in enthusiastic ringlets. You were the Earth herself, serene between the chaotic discussion. The ocean rushed into my ears and I felt dizzy.

Before you even turned around and smiled at me over your shoulder, I somehow knew you were my Margot. I remember so carefully stepping over a gap in the planks, not daring to lose my footing and disrupt what the universe was unfolding for me.

I remember the way, after you finally turned around, you shouted my name. It never sounded more beautiful than when you said it to me.

You looked so happy to see me. I remember the way you ran as soon as you saw me and fell into my arms like they were the door to your home. I remember your hair tickling my cheek and the smell of the sea mixing with the smell of your flower perfume.

You grinned up at me and said "It's been so long!" I agreed and hardly knew what else to say in return. I had everything to say. I wanted to give you the world with my words, but I found myself unable to say a single thing.

Your dark brows raised, your smile somehow growing even brighter. "Let's have ice cream! Like we used to!" Suddenly, ice cream was the most decadent food in the world to me.

We strode down the boardwalk together, arms linked like two parts in an unbreakable chain - or better yet, a chain that had never been broken before. I felt proud to have you with me, though neither of us said a word of feeling anything other than delighted friendship.

We ordered our ice cream and walked along the boardwalk, while fools with too much money darted in and out of the cheap shops like tiny fish swirling in an eddy. We passed the rides - the roller coasters, the bumper cars, the petting zoo. I almost suggested we ride the ferris wheel, but you were walking with somewhere else in mind.

We passed the boardwalk, down the wooden steps beside it, out onto the beach. It was deserted this time of year, when spring had not yet lost its evening chill. The sun was no longer in the sky, and we were enveloped in the perfect twilight blue in which all sacred memories are held.

As we walked, the stark cliff between the town and the beach grew taller and taller, until dirt gave way to rock. "Do you remember this?" you asked quietly.

Of course I did. It was our favorite spot. A little dip in the rock carved a huge overhang, where countless people of countless ages were constantly occupying. In it was a trapped piece of driftwood, an entire tree ground smooth by the sea then abandoned by its edge. We used to come there every day.

We laid together in the sand, beneath the arch of the driftwood, and watched the darkening blue sky. We delicately held hands, lacing our fingers together. I told you I missed you. You told me you were happy you'd returned.

I still cannot believe how naive we were then.

Signed,
Margot

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