By Nicole Hanson
**Photo by yuriyzhuravov licensed from Envato Elements
She walked across the sand at sunset. It was her nightly routine. The sounds of the waves hitting against the shore soothed her. It was the only time she felt close to him.
He left one summer morning as the dew still lingered on the blades of grass. The birds sang their morning song. He whistled with them as he held her hands to his lips. “I’ll be home before supper,” he said before boarding the boat. A promise he’s kept since they exchanged their vows. Except he didn’t return for supper that night. Or the one after that, or the one after that.
The days passed and the nights grew colder, yet she still walked the beach, waiting for his return. She still set two places at the table, praying his promise would ring true. The days turned into weeks, then months, then years. The children have long since moved on about their lives, bringing their own into the world. At the end of the day, the woman still set two places at the table and walked the beach. She knew her love wouldn’t return in the physical sense, but as the sand seeped between her toes, she knew her love was there. He was watching her and reaching for her hand. One day he’ll find me, she thought to herself. One day he’ll reach the shore.
She walked the beach once more before her time was up. The last brown lock had turned gray many moons ago. The walk had been tiresome for quite some time. She felt the water on her feet as the sun dipped below the horizon. A glint from the last rays of sunlight shined upon the glass bottle floating in the water right to her, and she knew her love has finally returned home.
That night, she laid in bed, clutching the parchment against her chest. All that time, she waited for him and he returned to her life, only to guide her into the next. To guide her home to him.
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