Megan Eccles. It really is amazing how many Megans I love. She is one of them. And I don't just love her because she is my very biggest fangirl. I love her because she has a heart as big as the ocean. She supports everyone and is their biggest cheerleader. She wasn't originally on the line up as I felt I had too many. But the more and more I thought about it, the more I realized this little thing wouldn't be complete if it didn't include her.
She is funny as hell and she pretty much said to all of the twitterverse she's moving up to Seattle, so help me make her keep that promise, okay? Because Seattle will be way more awesome if she's here.
So I gave her a picture that almost didn’t get included in this thing. And it was one of my favorites. And though her story is brief, it packs a wallop. She is a tremendous talent with intelligence, depth, and passion. And I am privileged to share with you, By the Sea by Megan Eccles.
The Memory Project (continued)
Continuing past the pictures of the stone figure, we flipped the page again and my eyes drifted to one picture among the others. With the tips of my fingers, I smoothed the curled edge from corner of the photo. The paper here seemed almost…tear stained. The moment my skin touched the black and white image, a shot of something flowed through me, as if it came from the photo itself. Not electricity exactly, something else. Something…emotional. I carefully touched the photo again, this time letting my finger linger.
As I did, a rush of emotions filled me. Pain. Guilt. Anguish. I was filled with the overwhelming need to cry. As tears welled in my eyes, I pulled my hand away, immediately breaking the hold the photo seemed to have on me. I gained control of my emotions and wondered just what this photo's story was.
(to be continued…)
By The Sea
By Megan Eccles
She hoped it would rain. She hoped the drops would pour down on her skin and wipe away the sick and sand and sadness the way the salted water was supposed to. But she couldn’t cross over the line between wet and dry, couldn’t make herself dip into the deep She was not ready for this, she wasn’t ready for any of it.
One year, it had been one year since he died. She counted the seconds without him on the gooseflesh on her arm that raised whenever she thought his name. Sebastian made her feel like the person she wanted to be, made her feel like the person he deserved.
She shifted in her borrowed chair and tried not to think of him, but she couldn’t ignore the memory of his face or the sweetness of his breath. She was afraid that if she held onto those memories too tightly they’d slip through her fingers like water, like sand, like the love she thought she had and couldn’t keep.
Light broke from the clouds before her, a single thread of hope dropped down for her to grasp. She would have held onto it, but after Sebastian, Michael packed up his things and went, too haunted by the shape of her eyes and the same way she looked at him, the same way Sebastian looked, before.
It was an accident, it always was. He wasn’t even in the water, just up against the shore with his blue bucket and bright red shovel, searching fro shells and sand crabs and small memories of childhood to pack up and try and take with him. She wouldn’t let him take anything living, of course, but the sea shell he offered her before he ran back to his playground would be a perfect token of this trip, a perfect token of his third birthday. She was only ten feet away, maybe. She was close enough to hear his voice echo in his bucket. She was close enough to see his skin raise at the breeze, to see the twist of his hair and the light in his eyes as he captured the froth and foam of the waves. He thought they were dragons, white and waiting to take him home.
She only looked away for a second, and when she looked back, he was gone. She heard the lifeguard’s whistle break the air as she ran and toward the water. She knocked the bucket over, spilling out his collection of crabs and sand. She could see him, so small, toppling in the white. The lifeguard cradled him in his arms the same way she did when she brought him home when he was new. Except this time, he wouldn’t breathe.
The rain came down with wet, heavy drops, marring the tears that left trails on her skin. She clutched the tiny shell in her hand, traced her finger along the spiraled ridge. If she could will herself back to that day she’d catch him out of the deep just in time, blow air into his lungs as if for the first time. She’d take him to Disneyland or the park or home or anywhere where he’d be safe and sound forever, where he could grow from a boy into a man while she watched and waited. Instead she was here, just as before, wishing like horses and begging the ivory dragons to give her just one more moment, just one last chance to say goodbye.
The thread of light shifted with the cloud coverage, permeating the rain and resting in the small of her hand where she held Sebastian’s shell. A rainbow arched above her, ending at the last gift her son gave her, the last part of him she could hold.
You can find Megan on twitter here: @lilnightmusic
And her blog here: loveletters710.com