Selenelion

The sand slid through his fingers like streams of earthen silk, shimmering resplendently in the reddish golden light of the setting sun beyond the sea’s horizon. He breathed, deeply, as if he could inhale and embrace the ambiance, sensually within his bosom. The leaf of a palm behind where he sat caressed the back of his neck, he allowed it to do so. He was glad, very glad indeed.

A faint sound of laughter drew his attention toward a tiny figure, a young girl, playing with a silver conch in the sand. She was gracefully, albeit awkwardly, shoveling a sandpile she’d made and giggled to herself as she poured each conch-full onto the pile. Dropping the conch, she clumsily stood on her plump little legs and frog-hopped onto the heap, roaring with glee as she rolled in the collapsing mound, her arms and legs kicking in the warm salted zephyr that carried the warning of a sultry night.

He smiled, then sulked a little as he realized this moment would soon pass, he resolved himself to absorb each moment from now until the setting of the sun. He sat up straight, his legs crossed and nestled comfortably in the sand, the palm still tickling him from behind. The little girl was now lying on the razed sandpile, her arms and legs outstretched like a star as she dreamily gazed up into the darkening sky.

“When are you leaving?” her tiny voice surprised him.

“When the sun is gone I guess,” he responded, a wisp of melancholy in his breath.

She rolled onto her belly, her elbows in the sand and her chin cupped in her podgy hands as her legs waded in the breeze as if in water. Even in the dimming sunlight, the radiant bronze rings of her eyes gleamed as she gazed, unblinkingly into his eyes. A scrunched pout appeared at her lips as she discontentedly accepted the fact.

“But where does it go? Can we follow it?” her eyes narrowed slightly in stern expectation.

He raised his gaze to the ripples of vermilion lacing the horizon at the base of the blackening sky, sequentially sparkles became visible as the stars made their evening debut.

“I don’t know where, maybe to another beach,” he reflected, entranced by the celestial spectacle. “So another little girl can have her turn to play in the sand.”

“No!” she retorted, breaking his meditation. He looked at her, she was now downhearted. “He’s looking for his daughter.”

“His daughter?”

An unsettling wave rose within his heart. Pushing herself up onto her knees, she pointed at the distant moon which he hadn’t noticed before. It was small, faint and unreachable.

“And she’s looking for him, but I think they can’t see each other. I always watch them. He comes every morning, sometimes she does too. But they never meet. He always goes away too soon, looking for her, but he leaves her alone in the dark.” She was somber and deeply pensive, a curious look for such a small child, he adored her for it.

She turned to look at him, but before their knowing eyes could meet, the sun had set.