Hello Ladies and Gentlemen! Today I am going to be sharing a short story I wrote a little over a year ago. This story was written for a contest I entered (the prompt for the contest was: write a story that demonstrates the importance of contentment). I did not win the contest, but I still really love the story and thought I’d share it with you all today.
*Note: Almost all pictures in this specific post are from Pixabay (all except two, which are my own)
The Dreams Of Meri Innes
I settle upon the pebbled shore, still fuming. The words I screamed at my mother reverberate in my head. You don’t understand! They still ring true. She doesn’t understand, and it sure feels like she doesn’t wish to. I want to cry. I don’t. Instead, I pick up the binoculars that always hang around my neck and hold them up to my eyes. Binoculars in place, I look out past the vast blue nothingness before me to what’s beyond.
At first, all I see are the watercolor gray of tall mountains with peaks that reach the clouds. I adjust the binoculars and move them downward until I see the hazy green hills. They aren’t what I’m looking for either, but they’re closer. I Follow one of the hills inward till I find the well-known crevice. There, I stop, gaze fixed upon a cluster of protruding gray rectangles. I lean forward, trying to see them better. Of course, this does nothing, for the mysterious city remains as far away as before. I drop the binoculars and fall back with a sigh.
For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed of getting off this puny island. Of going to that city across the ocean. Of having a life of adventure and intrigue. But I guess real living isn’t for everyone. Some get stuck with an island so small that you can bike across it in a mere twenty minutes. An island that has more sheep than people, and that’s saying something because there’s only one farm and it’s not big. I sigh again.
“What are you thinking about, Meri?” A gentle voice asks.
I startle at the unexpected noise, then glance up even though I already know who it is. My grandma stands on the edge of the grass, one brow cocked in question. I look away and pick up a stone. With a toss, it plunks into the ocean and is swallowed by the waves.
Beside me, rocks scuttle. I turn and watch as my grandma walks toward me. When she reaches me, she sinks down beside me. I reach out a hand to help her.
“You don’t have to sit.” I say. She shoes away my statement with a wave and settles herself upon the rocks.
“Now,” she says, looking at me with her bright blue eyes. They crinkle in the corners as she speaks. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” I look back over the sea at the land beyond.
“I…” I pause. Should I tell her? Or should I stay silent? I decide to risk it; after all, she is my go-to for things like this. She’s the best listener I know. “I had an argument with mom.” I say, and wait for the question I know will follow. Sure enough, she asks,
“What were you arguing about?”
“I…” Falling silent once more, I glance over at her, cheeks blushing pink. Will she chastise me like Mom? My grandma waits for me to continue. “I… I want an adventurous life, something real, but I’m stuck with… this.” I gesture around me, then turn back to gaze at the land beyond. With a pounding heart, I wait for her to speak. She doesn’t talk for a long time, and I hear her breath beside me.
In…
out…
In…
Finally, she speaks.
“Are you really stuck with this?” She asks. I bit my lip.
“Yes,” I say, flustered. The anger from before begins to rise again. She doesn’t understand, just like my mother. I should have known. I should have kept quiet. I should have —
“Meri,” my grandmother says. I don’t look at her. I have a feeling I know what’s coming. “Don’t miss what is in front of you because you are looking beyond. ” I sigh, pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around my knees. Why am I so surprised that she doesn’t get it? I want to cry. I don’t, of course.
My grandmother rests her hand on my shoulder. A tear slips out before I can stop it. “It’s not wrong to dream, my dear girl.” She removes her hand from my shoulder and uses it to brush the hair from my face, brushing away the tear as well. “But don’t let your dreams steal the joy of today.” I rest my chin on my knees. I get her point, but…
“Look around you, Meri,” my grandmother continues. I cast a dutiful glance about. The waves still lap against the shore, and the island rises behind me.
“What am I looking for?” I ask, my voice edged with agitation. My gaze lands on my grandma. She smiles at me.
“Adventure.” She whispers, voice hushed with wonder. I cock a brow. She laughs. “There’s adventure to be had right where you are. All you have to do is look.” She stands, brushing stray stones off her wrinkled legs. She casts one more smile in my direction, then turns and makes her way back toward the slope. I watch her go.
Suddenly, something rises within me, coiling like a snake. It strikes.
“You don’t understand!” I snap right as she steps onto the grass. She stops and turns to me. Once more, she doesn’t talk; she just waits for me to continue.
I open my mouth to speak, but can’t find the words, can’t tell her how much this means to me. She will never understand the weight my dream carries.
The tears begin to fall. I bury my head in my arms so that she can’t see them.
I hear her footsteps as she comes back, then feel the weight of her hand as she places it upon my head.
“What does adventure mean to you?” She asks. The question takes me off guard. What does it mean to me?
“It means something… new,” I mumble into my dress. “Something unplanned, something…” I trail off at a loss for words. Why is it so hard to put feelings into words?
“And what is keeping you from finding that, right here, right now?” She asks. What is keeping me? How about the fact that I’m on a minuscule island? I know that isn’t the answer she wants, so I give her the one she does.
“The fact that I’m looking beyond,” I say with a roll of my eyes. She can’t see it, of course. I wait for her to tell me I’m right, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says,
“I wonder if there is something more to it than that?”
Is there something more? I think about my dreams of living in the city, having my own business, finding love, and having close friends. Not being lonely.
Suddenly, I know what’s keeping me back.
Myself.
I look up at my grandma, tears filling my eyes.
“I’m stopping myself.” I say, continuing before she can respond. “I’m too quiet, too shy…” Tears take the place of words. I look away. I hear the stones skitter once more, and my grandmother grunts as she settles herself beside me. I still don’t look at her, but guilt pricks at me for not doing so.
My grandmother reaches out and cups my chin in her hand, turning my face toward her.
“Meri,” she says, voice as gentle as a dove’s coo. “Maybe your dreams for the future aren’t about the city at all; maybe they are about you.” She pauses for a moment, and I let her words sink in. She’s probably right; in all my dreams of the city, I am different — better. A tear slips down my cheek. My grandmother brushes it away, then continues. “I think you long for the city because you believe you will be different there; you’ll be the person you wish you were. But you don’t understand, my dear girl, how beautiful you are right now.”
“But I’m too shy. I… How am I supposed to live an adventurous life when I can’t even talk to the neighbors? How am I ever supposed to do anything if I’m always getting in my own way?”
“Meri, adventure looks different for each and every one of us. And it looks different at each stage of our lives. For you, that might look like pushing yourself to talk to the girl who is alone in a corner or to help the neighbor kids carry their kayaks to the shore. No adventure is more important than another. They all matter.
“I know it feels like you’re getting in the way of your dreams, but you aren’t. I think you’ll find that life ends up surpassing even our best, wildest dreams.
There’s wonder in the unknown.”
She looks into my eyes, then leans over and kisses my cheek before wrapping her arms around me. I lean against her. “I love you so much, my sweet girl,” she whispers, like it’s a secret between us. “You don’t have to be perfect in order to find adventure. All you need are two eyes willing to see, a heart full of the love that comes from the One above, and a willingness to try.” She pulls away and smiles down at me. “I think you have all three.”
She stands and makes her way across the beach and up the grassy slope. I watch her go, then turn back to the beach before me. The waves rush against the shore, rolling the pebbles up the beach, then back down again. It sounds like someone breathing. I close my eyes and listen.
In…
Out…
In…
In my mind’s eye, I see my mother and the look on her face when I yelled. Pinched lips, eyes hurt. A twinge pokes at my heart, and I bite my lip. I shouldn’t have yelled and said what I did.
I open my eyes, knowing I should go talk to her and make things right. Yet, I still linger, eyes automatically turning to the city beyond. I look at it, then lower my gaze. Before me lies the sea. It’s glittering from the sun, with green-blue waves tipped in foamy white. I cock my head. I never noticed how pretty it is.
I take off my binoculars and set them on the beach. Standing, I make my way to the sea’s edge. I lean over and select a flat stone. After curling my fingers around it the way Mom taught me, I pull back my arm, angling it just so, then let it fly. The stone skips ten times before sinking under the waves.
I smile and turn — just in time to see a volleyball barreling toward my face. Autopilot kicks in, and I duck before I realize what I’m doing. The ball sails over my head and lands in the water with a splash, then bobs on the waves. I look toward the shore. A little girl races toward me, pigtails flying, nose and cheeks burned red. She’ll get the ball soon enough.
Suddenly, I remember what my grandma said about adventure. I look back at the ball. It’s moving outward: thanks to the receding tide. I look back at the girl, then at the ball once more.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I hike up my dress and slip into the frigid water. The waves rush around my feet. I smile. I splash to the ball and grab it with my free hand, holding it against my hip, then turn and slog back. The girl stands on the shore now, one hand held up to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun. When I reach her, I hold out the ball. She flashes me a grin.
“Thanks!” She says, taking it from my outstretched hands. Then she’s gone, running back up the beach and over the grassy slope. I smile after her. Maybe my grandmother was right.
“Meri!” I turn toward the voice. “Come here please. I would like to talk.” My mom stands on the porch of our cottage, looking at me.
I know what I need to do.