Footprints

It reminded me of a joke we had heard in a movie. “You only have one chance to make a first impression”. Even now the corner of my lip twitched as I tried to hold back the childish giggle that seemed so inappropriate in the face of such angst. I wasn’t supposed to be wearing bare feet but I wanted to feel connected to the earth, the sand, and my childhood memories. Nothing made sense anymore, but this did. I continued the anxious search along with twenty others. Each footprint left a trail, an impression. An impression that would fade as surely as my memories eventually would, not matter how hard I fought it. The footprints were left for only moments until the incoming tide covered them greedily, taking them back to Tangaroa, the guardian of the sea, now also the cruel guardian of three young men he refuses to return. “Fuck you Tangaroa” I whispered through the salty tears, wondering why even these, my only outlet for the pain were so cruelly reminiscent of the cause of them. The piles of dry wood lie baking in the sun. I kick them furiously, reminded of how only two nights ago we came down and built a bonfire from them, lighting our faces and warming our bodies as we toasted marshmallows, the pink sugar blistering in the heat, then blistering our tongues, the water extinguishing the flames, just as it had extinguished the lives of my best friends.

Written for the Wednesday Write In. I was prompted by dry wood, and the search that has taken place here in Taranaki since the 3 men drowned here just off Paritutu Rock.