What's your story?

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Waverly's POV

There are infinite ways to paint the sea. For there are infinite ways to photograph someone. What makes anyone an artist? What makes an old woman taking pictures of her grandkids much different than a professional photographer?
After years, I think I found out. It's all about the story their trying to tell.
Now that I'm sitting facing the horizon I finally figured it out: My story. The only one I can tell. The only one I own fully and will hold and cherish forever.
So, I wonder, what's your story?
Only you can speak your truth. I'm here and I'll be there to listen from start to finish. Don't be scared, I won't judge. And if you read my story you'll know that it is the last thing I would do.
Now, let me take you to the beginning of it all.

It all started when I breathed for the first time in my life. As if I was born twice: One as a sister, daughter and fiancé. The second time as a woman. But how did it happened? And then, what was next? You are aching to know?
Ask the sea.
It always had been because of the sea. As if, every drop of the salted water had become my own metaphor.

It all began when I found the strength, and stubbornness, to climb on a little boat. Except, I sailed alone, because Leo never jumped in too. But me ? I had fallen in love hard. And everything else appeared forgotten and hidden in the clouds above my head. I lost track of time, I forgot my way back home.

And even if they had showed me the limit. Even if the coral leaf was right in front of my eyes, the red flags fighting their ways through my brain. I got lost staring at the horizon, I got lost chasing something that I never even hold in the first place. His love.

And I did it, I let it happened. The barrier was crossed and I was alone. So little and fragile facing the storm.
It hit me. I couldn't breathe. I fell into the deep dark waters. The thought of my sister wasn't enough. The memories like chains at my feet dragging me further down.

I was strong, I struggled for long, terrifying and lonely minutes. But what else can you do when facing the injustice ? No matter how hard you try, sometimes it's just not enough. I thought I was dead. I thought I had died. Until I breathed again. My cheek resting on her heartbeat.

What on irony: I lost myself in the sea. But I found myself in it a while later.
Guess life is all about that. Irony and a bit of surprises. And maybe just a tiny little bit of love, all kinds of it.

Now, tell me, what's your story?
What makes you breathe? What makes you wake up every morning with a smile dancing on your lips?
There's only one important answer,
and it must be: Yourself.
For me, all than I can say is: That summer changed my life and I wouldn't go back for a second to disturb it. I found myself as a woman and as a lover. And now as a_ _

"MOMMY?"
A little voice exclaimed in the distance making me lift my head up. I saved my draft and closed my laptop. A little boy and a girl ran their way across the coffee tables. They both stepped next to me. Ice cream splattered on their noses and cheeks. The little girl spoke first,
"Mommy, Mommyyyyy, are you done with your book yet?"

"I'm only at the preface Naya sweetie ...but... let's say I'm done for the day"

"YEY!" Will exclaimed tip toeing to drop a kiss on my cheek. My heart exploded as I took a longer look on their cute round faces.
They started giggling together whispering to each other. Naya pointed at my cheek. And that's when I noticed the ice cream melting under my eye.

"Will you tricked me!" I giggled too, taking my son into my arms. I started tickling him and he burst into a clear laughter. "What even happened with the ice cream?" I asked starting to clean his face.

Hazel Eyes: A SUMMER WAYHAUGHTWhere stories live. Discover now