This is a short story I made while I was thinking about my trip to Spain. I decided to take a train to San Sebastian and check out the beach on my own. It was beautiful. It was a perfect day. I soaked up the sun and got pretty dark. I was proud of myself!
The story is between a girl and her lover.
I didn't see him come towards me, but there he stood tall. He took me by the hand and together we made our way to beautiful San Sebastian. We soaked our feet in the warm water. His touch was gentle. My God such a pretty view. I looked at him as if we were to part tomorrow. No look of sadness in his eyes, simply a loving gaze to the future.
The water was still, my heart was beating fast, he held my hand tight, sweat dripping down his forehead. Perfect timing for a sangria I thought. How cliché. The dark man holding a sangria jug all morning is about to make another sale. So we sat, drinking sangria. Staring at the picture perfect view of the sun, sand and water. How they all complement each other.
Do I complement him? Does he think I'm the sand? Ahh...I hope not. He could live without sand. But he can't possibly live without water. Then again he can't live without the sun either.
What am I to him?
I sat. I drank a little bit more.
I kept thinking.
My head is spinning just a little bit.
I think the sangria man put just a tad too much red wine.
Water or Sun?
Does it matter? He needs both in his life. Could I possibly mean so much to him that I am both the sun and water.
He finished his sangria. He is a big man. I'm pretty sure he finished it awhile ago.
Should I ask him if he thinks I'm the water or sun? or errr...sand?
He stood up. He said the sun was too bright and hot he will go for a swim to cool off. He took his top off and asked if I wanted to join. Lucky I've got my bikini underneath. He carried me so I didn't have to walk on hot sand.
I couldn't take it any longer. I had to ask him. So I did.
He said "You are my sun, you bring me warmth with your smile, hugs and kisses, you are my water, you calm me down whenever I feel down or when I'm having a bad day, and most importantly you are my sand. Nobody really cares about sand, they stick on you and you carry them all the way home and it takes forever to get rid of it, but to me, it's like all those little things you do, your little habits, the ones you don't even remember doing, like how you constantly repeat yourself when you're telling a story, how you complain about your hair every second day. Those tiny things make you who you are, they actually make me laugh thinking about how naive you can be sometimes, they're so petty yet I can't forget about them.
but I love that about you. You are my sand. Even after we leave San Sebastian, I will still carry some sand, much like I will carry this moment with you and your silly question."
There was my answer.
