Where Loneliness Fades
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| The original picture was badly damaged so I used AI to clean it up |
I didn’t know how empty I could feel until that morning, sitting alone in the van, my stomach growling like it had forgotten what it was to feel full. Hunger is a strange thing—it pulls you into the present, rooting you to your body in a way that nothing else does. But as I sat there, hearing Max shuffle at my feet, I realized something: Max was restless too, and he didn’t deserve to feel confined just because I was busy wrestling with my own doubts. If anyone needed to feel free, it was him.
So, I got up, threw on some shoes, and together we headed out, the van sputtering to life as I drove with no destination in mind, just a vague idea to find somewhere open where he could run. And then I caught the smell of the ocean drifting through the open windows, sharp and clean. There was something freeing about it. I followed the sound of crashing waves until we reached an empty stretch of beach, the sand stretching like a promise into the distance.
Max didn’t waste a second. The moment I opened the door, he shot out, racing down toward the water, his legs churning up the sand as he dashed toward the waves, barking and bounding like he was part of the ocean itself. Watching him run felt like a tiny breath of relief—seeing him so free, so full of energy, almost like he was throwing himself into the surf to escape his own quiet restlessness.
For a couple of minutes, I watched Max with my feet in the water. Only moving once my feet were completely covered in the sand. I listened to the ocean letting it empty my mind to drown out the hunger pains I felt. I understood why some people loved the ocean. It was quiet, peaceful, it made all my problems seem smaller.
Then, a burst of laughter pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over and saw a group of people down the beach, all about my age, huddled around a driftwood fire, laughing and talking like they’d known each other forever. Max had already found them and was weaving his way into their circle, his tail wagging like he’d just found his long-lost pack.
I didn’t want to approach them. It had been so long since I had spoken to anyone other than Max. I was worried I smelled bad or if they would look down at me. But Max seemed to like them, so I figured I could count on his judgement. I took a deep breath and walked over, giving a small wave. They greeted me with easy smiles, and one of them, a girl with wild, sandy hair, motioned me to come closer.
“Is this your dog?” she asked while rubbing Max’s belly. He was full belly up, tongue hanging out his mouth soaking in the love from anyone he could.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling despite being overly self-conscious. “He’s mine. I’m Andrea.”
They introduced themselves one by one—Lily, Tony, Jessie, and Sam. There were a few others, but I can’t remember their names. As I sat with them, listening to them talk and laugh I felt my loneliness fade. They made me feel like we were friends and we’ve known each other forever.
Tony and Jessie, I soon learned, were siblings. It was obvious how they spoke to one another. The teasing, the look in their eyes as they shared a memory. Watching them made me remember what I had with Jake. I missed him. I missed the way he laughed, how he’d never admit he was wrong, the way he made me feel like the world was there just for me.
The group’s stories unfolded as the sun rose higher, warming the sand beneath us. Lily had just broken up with her long-term boyfriend. I can’t remember if he dumped her, or she dumped him, but she didn’t seem to be phased by it either way. I can only imagine having a close group of friends like you would never feel lonely.
Sam was a photographer right outside the city where I grew up. He moved out here after losing his best friend. They always talked about moving to the beach but never got around to it. After his friend died Sam thought he may miss his chance too and dropped everything and came out here. After hearing all of their stories I felt like we’d been friends forever too. I realized why they were all so close. They were all so open with one another. No fear of judgement.
I found myself opening up, too. I told them about Jake, about the way he’d raised me more than anyone else ever had, teaching me the kind of things most people learn from their parents. I didn’t dive too deep, didn’t mention the day he left or the way it still left a hollow ache that I couldn’t quite shake. But they listened, nodding like they understood, and somehow, their quiet acceptance made the memories feel less heavy.
The day passed faster than I could count. For the first time in what felt like years, I felt normal. I could breathe freely. The day passed by in a haze of laughter. The conversations felt easy. And I started to feel like I could belong here. I started to understand why Jake always spoke about living at the beach.
As I rose and dusted off my clothes with the sun sinking towards the horizon, behind me the group bid their farewells with lingering warmth that accompanied them as they gradually dispersed along the shore one by one. I waved goodbye. Kept my gaze fixed on them until they vanished into the twilight a strange feeling stirring within me. A sense of belonging that I had unknowingly yearned for in my solitude.
As I reached the van again after some time away and stepped inside it felt like a sense of emptiness crept back, into me and settled heavily in my chest with a feeling of weightiness to it. The silence seemed to amplify around me more than before as it engulfed the echoes of laughter and chatter that had filled the space earlier on. Feeling a pang of hunger, my stomach let out a growl reminding me that I had forgotten to eat all day; at once the days hunger crept back up on me. I searched through my belongings. Eventually settled on heating up a can of soup using my stove; the gentle bubbling sound bringing some noise back, into the quietness surrounding me.
As I ate, I couldn’t help but think about Jake. I could almost hear his voice, reminding me of the basics. “Always keep the essentials close by,” he’d say with that easy grin. “If you’re gonna wander, you gotta be ready for anything.” It was funny, really. He was the one who taught me to stay grounded, even while he was always heading somewhere else.
I finished my soup, staring out the van window as the last light faded from the sky. I didn’t know where I was headed, didn’t have any grand plan. But today had shown me something important: maybe it wasn’t just about finding a place, but about finding people, even if just for a moment, who could make the world feel a little less lonely. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
The ocean waves crashed in the distance, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo Jake’s words in my head, grounding me in a way I couldn’t explain. Tomorrow, I’d head south, maybe toward that place he once dreamed of, the beach he always talked about. It wasn’t much, but it was a direction. And somehow, as I leaned back against the seat with Max snuggled beside me, it felt like the first real step toward home.
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