Possible

Yesterday, the conversations flew around me. Flits of haughty sound and forced laughter. Somewhere, in the middle of the business deals masquerading as social upbraiding, he said something. The words were quickly hidden by snotty laughter and the squirming of ass kissery. I knew them to be something important. But I also knew his timing was intentional. He would not repeat those words again.

Today, I stand on the ocean’s shore. Picking up meaningless rocks and throwing them into the devouring waves. Some made a little plink, and some made an loud splash, and all were embraced by the dominating sea. I called the memories of the conversations to me, and played them over and over in my head. But still, his words eluded me. Still, the sound of his voice was silent. I never heard what he said. There was nothing to remember. The moment lost.

“AHHHHHHH FUCK YOU!” I screamed in sudden frustration. “Only the greatest key ever and I wasn’t paying attention! FUCK!” Another handful of rocks left the shore. “What’s the chance of getting a do-over? Of catching his eye, just one more time? Who the hell am I kidding? That scene is as played out as the gold mines in these cliffs. Only regret remains.”

I throw more rocks, as if to bruise the ocean in my anger. “Why, that’s about as possible as picking up gold from the debris laden shore.” I cock back my hand to throw the next handful of pebbles, but a strange feel catches my attention. I look in my hand, and there, among the dirt, sea glass, and bottle caps, is a strange gleam. It’s small, about the size of a peppercorn, but it’s there. Gold.

Inspired, I call to mind at once the sounds of last night. Not the conversations I had paid attention to, but the background sounds that I had ignored. I played them over in my head, and heard his voice clearly. The words he spoke. The next piece of the puzzle.

I tuck the gold chip in my pocket. Bowing to the ocean, laughing as I did so, I asked forgiveness for taking my anger on the waves. I was answered with a high series of breaks that drenched my legs.

My goal is still far from me. But now, I understand. If I approach the trials with open eyes and an open mind, anything indeed, is possible.

(This post written for, and inspired by, Sunday Scribblings #303: “Possible“.)