Later
An original story by Julie Wee
In a quiet village, surrounded by mountains, cut off from the rest of the world deep in a landlocked state, an age away from the ocean, lived Kashia.
Kashia had never left her little village. She helped her mother in and around the house, played in and around the village but dreamed over, up and beyond her everyday small town life.
There were few visitors to her village; it was a long hard climb up, with little reward upon arrival, nor promise of anything but cold hard mountain past it. But when Kashia was eight years old, a travelling storyteller, through bad luck, bad weather and a bad case of being lost, found himself in her village. He was a man who was as tall as he was thin, with well-worn clothes, kind eyes and a healthy appetite.
Every evening for a week, he would tell stories by the fire, in exchange for food and a bed for the night. On the first evening, Kashia sat spellbound in the light of the fire and for the rest of the week she spent the daytimes in a haze and the evenings awestruck by the side of the storyteller who weaved mesmerizing tales of the Rajas of India, the desert tribes of Africa and the great ocean adventures of nomadic traders.
For years after the storyteller had come and gone, Kashia would dream of these strange lands. But most of all she dreamed of the mysterious and vast ocean that he had told of. She imagined what waves might look like, rocking and tossing a ship at will. She imagined the colours she would see, the feeling of sand in between her toes. She imagined the sound of the waves ebbing and flowing, and the seagulls cawing high up in the sky.
Kashia made up her own stories of lonely lighthouse keepers, strong sailors and terrifying shipwrecks. Her fantasies swept from the wild excitement of pirate adventures to the quiet tranquillity of stretching out over the sand on a sunny day. But all these pictures were invented in her mind, never had she ever smelt a whiff of the salty sea breeze.
As a child, she would lead the others in violent games of ‘Shipwreck Island’, and as an adult, she spent the time meant to be working, staring off into the distance, her mind stretching over the mountainous expanse towards the ocean. But the ocean was far far away, too far away for even dreams. Getting to the ocean was too far, too treacherous, too ambitions, too frivolous.
“Get back to work!” her mother would yell. She was getting a reputation as an absent-minded young lady. “You’ll never get married, never amount to anything.”
If you hear something said often enough, it starts to take effect. So Kashia pushed her dream aside and concentrated on useful and worthwhile pursuits like shaping herself into a suitable potential wife and perfecting her domestic abilities. She stayed in her village where she belonged, and kept her dreams to herself.
Now Kashia was in her twenties, and about to get married. Her secret ocean fantasies remained secret. She thought about her dream less and less, especially now she was preparing for her wedding to a handsome and good-natured man from a neighbouring village.
The night before her wedding day, she lay alone on her single bed for the last time. Her mind started wandering back to the night the storyteller had arrived. She recalled the fire in her belly when he had spoken about the ocean and her yearning resurfaced. But she quashed the desire, reproaching herself for thinking such silly thoughts on such an important night. As she drifted into slumber, a little voice inside her whispered, “Another time, I’ll see the ocean another time.”
Now Kashia was a mother of two grown children; two boys who were about to leave home in search of work. Kashia was sad to see them go, she would miss them very much. She was also glad that they would have the chance to leave their little village and seek their fortune.
As the boys were saying their goodbyes, her eldest son declared that he would go to the city and become a carpenter. The youngest son had also made his decision. “I’m going to make my way to the ocean and become a sailor.”
Kashia felt a strange trembling in her stomach. “The ocean….” She was now middle aged, it had been a long time since she had thought earnestly about her dream. Without giving her feelings away, Kashia kissed her boys farewell and waved them off as they walked down the path and disappeared into the distance. “It’s only a daydream,” Kashia thought to herself, “ My place is here.” And she pushed all thoughts of sand and sea out of her mind.
Kashia was now a frail old lady, with a waking stick and a hunch. She had a lot to be proud of. She had a lived a happy life with a loving husband and had raised two delightful boys. Nearing the end of her life, she had many hours to sit and ponder, and many more hours to daydream. Naturally her mind would bring her to the ocean, but she knew her place, she was an old woman, too old to go chasing dreams.
Kashia’s husband fell ill and lying on his deathbed, he spoke of his love for her and how he could not have led a happier life. If he had one regret, a regret that he had kept a secret, it would have been to have to made the long journey to see the ocean.
Kashia froze. “The ocean? You dreamed of seeing the ocean?”
“Yes, but I had responsibilities. I had to stay here where I belonged.”
Silent, Kashia leaned over and kissed him.
Their sons were called back home to bid farewell to their dying father. After the quiet funeral, Kashia called her youngest son aside and asked of him the one thing she wanted most, but had never dared to ask anybody. He protested, but she protested harder. She was strong enough to make the journey, and what did it matter if she wasn’t, she felt more alive now than she had all her life. She had made the decision. She had conquered her fear of judgement, and she had no responsibilities left to worry about. She would go now or never.
Seeing the passion in his mother’s eyes surprised her son and he agreed. The next morning, after packing a small travelling bag, they began their long and arduous journey.
They began slowly, on foot, making their way down the mountainside. When they arrived at the village at the base of the mountain, they bartered Kashia’s delicious cakes for a ride through the valley. As they passed the point that would lead Kashia further than she’d ever been before, a flutter of butterflies bubbled up in her stomach. She was like a little child again, looking around in fascination with the unsuppressed desire to shout “Are we there yet?”
The whole journey took them over a week, and as they were passing the final threshold past the hills that separated them from the view of the ocean, Kashia’s son wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and shared her joy as the trembling Kashia breathed deeply the salty tangy air.
The cart went over the final hill revealing the open ocean beyond. The sea was rough and violent, reflecting the clear blue and white of the sunny sky above. Waves were crashing loudly against rock and there was a ship bobbing its way out to sea. The open sky and the endless ocean stretching towards the flat line of the horizon were so new yet so familiar to Kashia. Kashia and her son sat together on the grassy hill in silent awe. Kashia in fulfilling the simple yet what had almost been an unattainable dream of a lifetime, and her son soaking in his mother’s pleasure.
After a long while, Kashia slowly stood up and made her way down the slope and onto the beach. Barefoot and loving it, Kashia wriggled her toes and dug her feet into the sand. Kashia stood just at the point where the waves recede back into the mass of water and took her first step into the cool salty ocean, then walked fully clothed into the water. She’d done it. She had seen, touched and experienced her dream. In her next life, she would not wait so long.