The Difference

I stand alone near the shores of the beach. The wind blows, biting into my skin already cold from the typical November weather.

The waves crash onto the sand, sometimes softly and gently, but mostly loudly and harshly. A few lone seagulls fly high above in the sky, hawking loudly at each other, circling the beach.

The sand is cool between my toes. I lift my head and let the wind carry my hair, twisting it in all directions as it ripples, creating the illusion of a black wave. I lift my arms and reach up for the sun, obscured behind a golden cloud.

Twirling about, I laugh and the sun emerges from its hiding, illuminating the entire scene. My laugh resounds again and again, echoing over the desolate beach. Then, I come to a stop.

The waters are still. I gaze for a moment at my forlorn face, and then the waves wash it away. I am still standing here with the wind at my back, whispering.

I am still here.

The beach has not changed; it is nearly as I remember it. All is crystal clear.