Nadia Part Three

SCAR

Out there...across the sea— that is where they are... that is where they are... that is where...your mantra for many years.

Why did they leave you?

Who took them away? And there you remained in your twelfth year paralyzed for the remainder of your days. At least some days feel that heavy, you think.

That was the summer you swam every day, all day: body-surfing until your knees scraped raw, and your breath: part salt, part surf. In the tumultuous waves is where you forgot the scar—memory. The waves beat against your fury twisting your body and slamming it on the seabed. This was relief. And when the surf was too low to surf, you swam out sea until you sank. The sinking into the deep azure comforted your scar, and when your air ran out, you sprinted for the surface, air.

Then you’d float on your back and dream, the only time you would. Sleep then was black and unforgiving. There is a comfort in dreams; in knowing you can create new realities. And that is why you would wake before the dawn to swim, to be near the dreams, to be in comfort.

The ocean makes sense; she wraps herself around you, a large salty blanket and a home. She protects and forgives, judgeless: the only cure for the sufferer. A dive into her redeems the sleepless black nightmare, and your emergence through her cool sheen mends.