A Friend To All

I looked out over the vast blue ocean in front of me, the strong sea wind whipping my short brown hair around my face.

Mom had loved taking me down here, down to the wide bluff that stretched for miles around the coastline of Nantucket.

I remembered holding her hand, listening to her tell me stories about growing up on the mainland, never seeing the ocean, then coming here, and just like that, her life changed forever. She loved the ocean, and considered it a friend. Until that friend betrayed her.

I frowned and closed my eyes, trying to forget the memory.

Suddenly, I heard Dad’s voice calling me from the house.

“Emily! Dinner’s ready!” I heard him say. I opened my eyes and turned around, walking back to the small house me, my Dad, and my little brother shared now that Mom was gone.

Dad met me on the back porch, his hands crossed, a frown on his face.

“Emily, I don’t want you out there all by yourself, okay? It can be pretty rough.”

I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, I know. But Dad, I’m thirteen. I can take care of myself.”

Dad looked hurt for a moment, and I regretted being so rude to him.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he turned away and walked into the house. I followed him inside.

My little brother, Clewis, was busy setting the long dining table for dinner. When Clewis was little, he would often come home after school crying because the kids had teased him about his name. Whenever it happened, Mom would sit us down and tell us why she had named Clewis that awful name.

But why, Mommy?

Because, honey, when you were born, I looked into your eyes, and I could tell that you were born to be an explorer. So, I named you after the two greatest explorers I knew; Lewis and Clark. Though, I'll admit, it took your dad some time to get used to it.

Until Mom was gone, I didn't realize how much I treasured those moments with her.

Her wisdom, her confidence, her sympathy, empathy, and compassion, and her patience.

"Hey, Em," Clewis interrupted my thoughts.

"What?" I asked wearily.

"Can you tell me something about Mom?"

I looked at him, startled. "What? Why would you want me to tell you about Mom? You knew her."

"Yeah, but you knew her better. Plus, you're an awesome storyteller." Clewis countered.

I sighed, but before I could utter a word, Dad jumped in.

"Emily, you got that storytelling trait from your Mom. She was an amazing storyteller."

I didn't say anything, just nodded and sat down at the table. Dad looked at me. "You okay, hon?"

I nodded again. Dad put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me lovingly. "Did you have fun at the ocean today?"

I pulled away from him. "Of course not. I hate the ocean."

Dad looked startled. "What? But you used to love the ocean."

"Yeah, used to. Not anymore." I looked at Clewis. "You can never trust the ocean, okay? It's dangerous."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Is this because of what happened to your Mom? Because, honestly, Emily-" I cut him off.

"Honestly, what?" I asked angrily. "The ocean took away Mom. It's nothing but a dangerous monster. I hate it, okay? I hate it!"

Suddenly, memories flashed before my eyes.

Help!

Mom! Come back!

Help me! Someone! Help! Please! HELP!

MOM! MOMMY! PLEASE!

I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from the table and ran out the door. I ran so hard and so fast that by the time I got there, I just collapsed on the ground. I tried to fight back my tears as I looked at the gravestone.

Elizabeth Andrews Mitchell,

Beloved Wife, Daughter, Mother, and Sister.

April 16th, 1980- August 4th, 2024

"I miss you so much, Mommy." I whispered to the gravestone, which was covered in roses. Mom's favorite flowers. I should know. I put them there.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Dad standing behind me, a sad expression on his face.

"You still come here a lot?" He asked me. I nodded.

He pulled me close to him, wrapped his arms around me, held me close. "I'm so sorry, honey," he whispered in my ear.

I let my tears flow down my cheeks, into my mouth, my tongue soaking up their saltiness.

"I miss her," I whispered to him.

"Me too."

After a few minutes, he released me.

He looked at me. "Why do you hate the ocean?"

I stared ahead at the waves pounding the shoreline.

"Because the tide took Mom."

"You know she swam out too far."

I looked back at him, furious. "So it was her fault?!"

"No, of course not," Dad said quickly. "But she wasn't being careful. We both know it could have been prevented."

I sighed. "She was just having so much fun. She loved the ocean so much."

Dad nodded. "She did. I guess, all I'm asking is, please don't hate the ocean because of what happened to your Mom. She wouldn't want you to hate the ocean. She would want you to forgive it."

Dad slowly got up and walked back towards the house.

I didn't follow him.

Instead, I got up and started walking towards the sea.

I stopped at the very edge of the beach, the high tide lapping against my bare feet. I looked out over that beloved, endless blue field that stretched for miles. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the waves. I smiled. I had forgotten how much I loved doing this at night.

Suddenly, I felt something hard hit my foot. I looked down and saw a small conch shell at my feet. I picked it up.

Mom's favorite shell.

When she was alive, she had a collection of them all around the house. After she died, Dad had thrown them all away. I knew he had done it because they stirred up too many painful memories for him, but I was still angry at him for throwing them away. I would've kept at least one or two in my room.

I turned the shell over in my arms, then pressed it to my ear.

Nothing.

I took it from my ear, but I didn't let it go. Somehow, holding it made me feel closer to Mom. I smiled again, this time a big grin.

I forgive you, my dear friend, I thought.

I could almost feel Mom smiling at me down from Heaven.

I slowly turned around and started walking back towards the house with the conch shell.

A friend to all, I thought. Like all friends, the ocean sometimes made mistakes, but it always apologized. It was always faithful.

Headstrong, but faithful, loyal.

A true friend to all.