Sepala Weliwitigoda

Christmas on the Beach

Christmas on the Beach

The sky is ready to cry, the emotions are high, for the sky and its gazers. A single cloud covers the entire horizon. Sun blinks through the torn holes of a thick and dense cloud, unable to hold together every thread of the dark blanket it has woven, concedes a few glimmers to the setting sun. Waves are dull and melancholy, not exuberant or synchronized as when sunlight defines its swell and illustrates its spray of tiny white droplets of water rushing through the sand and retreats to repeat the feat.

Christmas decorations by the beach, reflections in the ocean, our imaginations, reasons we came from long distance. Cloud pore buckets of water on the beach, where Christmas lights were to happen in the night. Christmas tree, a blur, barely make its shape, and rest of the Christmas lights in the distance, a mirage, illusions that make no real sense or coherent shape. Toy soldiers missing their hats and arms, a couple of reindeer have dropped out of Santa's long ride, and Grinch has stolen large boxes of presents that lay on the ground. 

Thousand strands of lightning casts a flicker of a firefly on the mangled bones of Christmas decorations, discerning what it could have been. A seagull fly along the beach, surveys the damage inflicted upon Christmas, wearing magnifying glasses able to pick a tiny fish in the ocean from far up in the sky, an estimate to rely.

Lounge filled with adults and children, bored with card games, tired of small spaces, those of similar fate, who came to enjoy Christmas on the beach, their eyes transfixed on the windows, hoping rain would end. Some regrets, a Christmas wasted by a relentless rain.

An amazing display of bolts of electricity breaking into hundred of splinters in the horizon onto the wide span of the sky, illuminates its dark black background, like neon lights, flashes on the smiling faces of children, standing glued to the window and cheering the big bolts of electricity as they light up the sky, an excitement they needed, forget the disappointment they endured.  The lightning a substitute for the Christmas lights they missed. All is not lost.

Comments1

  • JaneEVE

    Wonderful write - :)



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