20 November 2008, 6:28 pm
Along the Atlantic coast, I sat gazing towards the ocean. My mind was at peace and was roaming freely. The waves were gently breaking as the seagulls were soaring high above me. I could have kept my composure if it wasn’t for a man’s voice. “Good evening, miss,” he called. I gave him a weak smile and squeaked out a hello. My eyes scanned his body from head to toe. He had kind, green eyes and smooth, pale skin. His smile was bright and paraded his confidence. His chocolate brown hair flowed just above his perfect eyebrows. He stood just shy of six feet with legs that seemed like they could go on forever. He was unbelievably handsome. “What are you doing out here all alone?” he questioned. I really didn’t know why I’d come here. All I do is sit in the sand and just think. I’ve been doing it ever since I could remember. I never really thought about it. “Just to enjoy the sound of the ocean, I guess,” I lied. I just sat with my bare feet buried in the sand as the emerald beauties of this stranger stared at me. He stood there a moment, looking as if he were contemplating what his next move was. He glanced over to a larger woman walking her pint-sized poodle then back at me. He flashed me a smile and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. He lingered there, not saying anything for a moment, and then asked, “D’ya mind if I sit here?” He pointed to the sand next to me. I shook my head. After sitting together for a few minutes, we were talking like we’d known each other for years. We were talking and laughing for what seemed like forever when he asked, “Will you go somewhere with me?” Without thinking twice I jumped to my feet and said yes, eager to get away from this familiar place. He led me to a sparkling, blue bicycle with a large basket attached to the handlebars. He swung his right leg over the seat, and commanded me to jump up to sit in the basket. I hesitated, but something about his smile made me want to jump into that basket and ride away with him to a far away place of peacefulness. I slowly put my hands on the handlebars and pushed off the ground with all my might and plopped my behind into the basket, letting my legs spill over the top of it. I reached for the handlebars and accidentally grasped the man’s hand. I quickly let go and my cheeks got hot. I glanced back and saw him smile and say, “Here we go, hold on!” We were riding for about ten minutes when we came to a halt near a large building with graffiti on the outside wall. He put the kickstand down and lifted his leg over the seat and stepped around in front of me. He put his hands around my waist and lifted me out of the basket and set me gently on the ground. I heard a crowd of voices coming from about a block away. He motioned me to follow him as he started to slide in between two buildings. I heard the voices getting louder as I inched my way between the buildings. After a minute or two, we reached the street where thousands of people stood before me. I wondered what they were here for. I glanced around and saw posters and signs that promoted peace. “Is this a peace rally?” I asked. The handsome stranger nodded. He started to walk towards a large stage upon which a person stood. We weaved in between children and older people holding “anti-war” signs before we reached the front of the stage. The speaker atop of the stage preached about how peace should be implanted in people’s minds and spread through their mouths. I agreed completely and smiled. I stood there a few minutes, listening, and then focused on music I heard a few yards away. I walked over to a booth that was playing rock music with the man close behind me. In the booth sat a woman with gray hair and wrinkles that were so deep that they looked as if they were intentionally cut into her flesh. I asked about the music. “It’s The Beatles, of course. They were one of the most influential, peace-spreading bands there ever was. We always play their albums at our rallies. Would you like to buy an album with their greatest hits?” The older woman asked. I looked at the sign that stated the amount of ten dollars for an album. I shoved my hand into my front pockets and then my back pockets and found nothing but twenty-two cents and some lint. As I was about to tell the woman that I just didn’t have enough money, the man I rode here with handed the woman a ten dollar bill and told me to choose an album. I chose the album titled “Revolver” and the woman placed it inside a tan, plastic bag and handed it to me. “Thanks!” the woman said as she looked at me. I grasped the bag and smiled at the man. I pointed at him and said, “Actually you should be thanking …” My voice trailed off as I realized I had never learned the man’s name. Without missing a beat the man said, “Gray.” “Gray.” I repeated. Over the last few hours we spent at the rally, my taste buds danced as I ate vegetarian dishes I’d never even heard of bef... Read More »
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