and with it, the realization that, as trite as it might seem, dreams can come true.
He walked a little more, skirting the shoreline and feeling the coolness of the water on his bare feet, the wet sand slightly yielding to his steps. In front of him some gulls were bickering over the spoils of a beached redfish that the tide from last night’s storm had brought in. The waves were calming now, little waterfalls being delivered in small crests, falling flat and spreading themselves in foamy pools, then receding back into the Gulf. Everything was calming now.
He marveled again at the long, twisted set of circumstances that had – finally – brought him here. That he was still alive was a miracle in itself. He tried to tell himself that he had never lost faith, but a regretful twinge from somewhere deep inside told him that he had. That would be forgiven, he was sure. Nobody could have kept the faith throughout all of this, he thought to himself. Except for her, of course.
He stopped and looked out over the water, towards the horizon where the morning sun was struggling to find some space between the clouds to poke through. He thought again of the money. More than in his wildest dreams. But of course it wasn’t about the money. It was never about the money.
The gulls flew off, seeking other treasures from the storm no doubt. He smiled at the thought. How wonderfully metaphorical. In front of him the waves kept coming in, just like they always had. Just like they always would. He smiled even more. Then he turned and began walking back towards the cottage. She would be awake by now.
The End
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