for the four of us

for the four of us best friends from those days, the sea would claim a significant site in our teenage memories. often we would take our bicycles and head over just as the morning quiet began to disappear, and the sun rose and whitened the sky. sometimes if we were utterly bored we would collect and ride in the bright noon day, the searing reflections from the waves tempting us to jump through them, which once, twice we really did. then we would sit on the sizzling-hot granite breakwater while our clothes spread out to dry. or we would climb the coconut trees and pick its fruit, competing to be the first to crack the husks. the beach wasnt teeming with people and eateries the way it is now, and its sunsets, with the returning tranquil and the occasional dives of seagulls across the orange clouds, were ineffably beautiful. there was a particular spot that had an abundance of palm trees, and from where we sat, its leaves would frame the flaming expanse of sky with sky and its defiant-appearing crescent partner, descending onto the jutting overland in the distance, before being gently engulfed by it, the dark quietly taking over. what remain of those vivid, blazing images soaked in our dilating irises are now sepia snapshots tinged with nostalgia. all five years we never tired of those trips - perfunctory pilgrimages made almost daily, a ritual of our friendship with the sea. without anyone's realising, the lapping waves and the sandy steppes had partook in our conversations, eavesdropped on our secrets, watched us grow up and apart. if we were to return to the sea now after so many years, we would find ourselves alone, awkward and forlorn with the other three, the once-familiar and cherished living like phantoms in our collective and uttered reminiscences. some years ago, we met there for the last time, after not having done so for some years already, each busy living our post-teenage life of freedom and worry. we didnt plan it to be final, of course, such prophecy absurd. but meteor showers were forecast a few minutes after that midnight and we felt it would be fascinating to lie once more on that familiar slab of uncomfortable granite, relive old dreams and share new ones. then there was one long moment, where out of nothing our chatter fell away, and thought-filled silence hung between us, as if paying a homage and bidding a farewell to all that had gone before, and laying them to rest. what more could we ask, when there would be old dreams to live on and new ones to look for? that last night in front of the whispering sea, we hushed our wishes together, yet, alone, under the silvery shooting stars.