Nothing Lasts Forever

Nature’s sounds reigned supreme, drowning out human chatter on the long stretch of white, coarse sand. The sun above was mellow, playing hide and seek in the sky punctuated by wisps of grey-white clouds, revealing a beautiful blue sky behind. The melodic sounds of birds twittering, the brushing of palm leaves against each other as gusts of wind tore through them, the splashing sound of waves slapping the shores, and the squeaky sound of old boats brushing against the newly constructed wooden pier that extended into the lake created a symphony of sounds.

There was always something about the lake that moved the needle inside him. It was only at the beach that he took closer notice of his surroundings. It seemed as though in the city, he was more interested in people than nature, but at the beach, his interest shifted to nature more than people. The enormity of it drowned out many things, such as the mischievous pettiness and near-evil proclivity to take a cursory and pretentious look into another person’s affairs, which was nearly non-existent. In the face of such enormity, humans were put in their place as footnotes in nature, at least in size. This greatly helped with his neuroticism – the fear of being judged, the pressure to be perfect, to be seen – all of which seemed to drown out at the beach, and he felt safe basking under that dome of perceived security.

When one took an interest in another at the beach, it was a passive interest that sought mirth and a productive search for commonalities, not self-indulgence. However, he knew the nirvana-like warm feeling was never forever; otherwise, one would only be living half a life. When he came to think about it, it was impossible to be in that place for long, because before long, one had to retreat back to the trenches of life, the messiness of it all, where snobbery, apathy, competition, and self-centeredness rule. Therefore, such moments at the beach were only for a while, and purposed to infuse one with a dose of calmness and serenity – the proverbial life jacket in the concrete shark-infested jungle of the city that always threatened to be overwhelming. One always had to eventually leave.

“How long has it been, Eze?” Jamie asked him.

“Maybe ten days or so; I can’t tell. I lost track of time,” Eze replied, not turning to look at Jamie but with his gaze firmly planted on a dog circling about playfully at a distance.

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, “The place has that sort of effect. But I’ve been here long enough to know that however beautiful or absorbing it seems, you all eventually leave.”

“Tell me about it,” Eze was quick to say. “The paradox of the human condition – there is chaos in us, so after a while, the peace and serenity get overwhelming, and we seek to respond to our base instincts.”

“It’s perplexing; no wonder hedonism is such a futile thing. It feels as though we get tired of everything, even the good things, like sitting here.”

Eze and Jamie had struck up an unusual friendship ever since Eze arrived at the beach town where Jamie was a local, working as a bartender at the beach bar where Eze had a martini on his first day in the town days ago. Eze had eventually found out that Jamie worked a day job as a manager at the motel his father owned, where Eze had moved in. And that he owned the beach bar where, on odd days like the day Eze arrived, he sat in as a bartender. The humility had struck Eze as impressive. They became friends who sat to watch the sunset for the last six days, talking, giggling, and dancing with whatever tourists who cared to join in until nightfall.

But now the days had gone by, and it got all too familiar for Eze. For the first time, it came to him that maybe, indeed, nothing is forever. He’s one to leave without a word because the messiness of goodbyes discomforts him and makes him jittery and giddy for all the wrong reasons, stemming from the abandonment burden he carries. However, he owed it to Jamie, who had made his life blissful for six days or so.

“I will be leaving tonight,” Eze said.

“Oh…” Jamie voiced, taken aback. “That’s abrupt.”

“I know.”

“Well, you’ve been a ray of sunshine and added to the radiance of this place; we’ll be sad to see you go.”

“That’s kind,” Eze said. “I hope I’ll be able to transfer some of that to where I’m returning to.”

There would be hugs, no tears, no emotive proclamations, no sadness. Just the appreciation of the time they had, and the embracing of life’s eventuality—that everything, however good, is left behind from time to time for seemingly better things—and the understanding that man’s greatest deception is that satisfaction is attainable, so we keep going in a vain search for it, dropping old things and picking up new ones.