Yuning "Anona" Yang

2022/05/03

I used to look over the sea at sunset.

The golden light was shattered by the waves and reflected as hazy stars into my eyes. The moon was already in the sky, curved into a tiny arc, just like your smiling eyes.

I thought your boat must be near. Its white hull would probably be lit up by the setting sun, like the seagulls accompanying the boat, as clean as an angel guarding travelers in the blue sea.

I always thought of the first time I saw you I waited for you, the small canoe floated from afar. Your shadowy figure paddled hard, correcting the canoe’s course and trying to get closer to the island where I lived. The figure looked strong, but not tall. The figure’s white T-shirt danced in the wind like a sail.

When you finally reached the shore, I was cooking in the log cabin. Through the window I saw you neatly jump out of the canoe, drag it ashore, and look around for people. You didn’t notice me, but on the narrow window of my cabin, your figure was embedded right in the middle. The morning rain had left water stains on the window glass. Slanting mottles hung on your body shallowly, like an exquisite wooden decorative carving. 

I watched you leisurely walking on the shore, jumping up and down. You tried to scare the seagulls resting on the beach, and left footprints, one after another on the smooth sand washed away by the waves. I didn’t notice that I started to smile. When the birds finally got impatient with your teasing, they rose together and flew away, their white wings covering the sky, like a dancing sail under the crimson night. I saw you gently stretch out your hand, as if you were trying to retain them, but then suddenly retracted, only looked up at them intently, as if regretting that you couldn’t have their freedom.

We had a simple dinner of fish barbecue and counted the stars all night around the campfire amidst the sea breeze. You said you were the child of an ordinary fisherman on a nearby island. You quarreled with your family, so you took the canoe you made yourself, and thought of escaping the chaos for a moment. You didn’t expect that this uninhabited island nearby was actually inhabited, and were shocked when you saw me. As you were talking, your brow slightly raised and your face looked cheerful, full of youthful vigor.

“I split the tree myself! That birch tree is tall and thick, perfect for a canoe. The only problem is that it is much taller than me, it really scared me when it fell down…” You kept gesticulating its size with your hands as you spoke, stopping every now and then to look at me. “You don’t know, my father’s Seagull was the most beautiful boat in the world! He painted it with the whitest paint he could find, because my mom likes white. My dad painted it when he proposed, and never changed the color since that. In the harbor,  Seagull stands out among all the grey and brown boats of the village. I really want to take you to see her!”

“I will definitely own a boat like that when I grow up. I will go out to sea like those adults and embrace the sea breeze everyday!” You smiled and turned your head around towards me, and I was looking at you all the time. You suddenly looked into my eyes, froze for a few seconds, and then darted away, scratching your head. “You’re shy.” I teased you. 

You glanced at me quickly and then lowered your head, with a little nervousness in your eyes, but boldly moved towards where I was sitting. Under my gaze, you leaned your head on my shoulder. I held my chin with my left hand and bent slightly to look at you. Aware of my movements, you also bent over, huddling against my side like a little hedgehog. I rubbed your hair and rested my chin on top of your head.

“Do you see the Lyre?” I pointed it for you. You raised your head and saw the small lopsided box. “I want to play lyre for you too, but I don’t know how.” You looked sad. “Let me sing you a song then.”  While you were singing, I softly kissed your face. The Milky Way in the summer night was grand and bright, twinkling delightfully above our heads. That night, I had a dream of seagulls flying me high in the sky.

The next day, before dawn, I woke up from my dream and heard someone rapidly knocking on the door, one after another, unstoppable with anger. I opened the door to find a grizzled old man; his skin was dark, his eyes were cold, and his face wrinkled with traces of the sea breeze. When he saw that it was a stranger who opened the door, he looked at me, said hello as politely as he could, and asked if I had seen a boy about my age. He had barely finished his sentence when he saw you asleep behind me, and then I heard his deafening swearing.

You and your father argued for a long time, and I had to excuse myself for a short walk in the woods. Tasha, my deer friend, whom I hadn’t seen in over a month, was foraging in the woods with her clan. When she saw me, she ran over happily, rubbed my hand affectionately and led me to see her newborn children. Those little fawns inherited the brown fur and white dotted patterns of Tasha and their father, prowled among the adult deers, looking lovely.

When I got back to my cabin, you were sitting beside the bed disappointedly, and your grandfather, still angry, stood at the door sulking. Seeing me approaching, he softened his expression, nodded to me, and headed towards the shore. I walked over to you, tried to take care of your messy hair, and was about to ask what happened. “I’ve got to go.” You looked up at me. Your voice was a little hoarse and hesitant. You seemed to have cried, eyes red, and your dark pupils were full of tears, like a deer. I stopped my hands, “go then.” I knew you would leave, sooner or later, but I didn’t expect to be so quick. I grew up alone on this island, and I always guessed that I would live alone here until my death. Your arrival was already a great surprise and I shouldn’t dream more.

When you left, I walked you to the shore and saw Seagull swaying gently in the waves. It was a beautiful boat, white all over, vaguely covered with children’s colorful graffiti under the white paint, red-eyed rabbits, crimson sunset, and many, many seagulls flying. The water at the shore was clear as a mirror, and the reflected seagulls seemed to be flying in the blue sky. It’s just that Seagull had been on the sea for too many years, its wood surface was already a little rotten. Though it was well hidden by the white paint, it was not difficult to guess that it would turn into useless wood soon.

Your mom and little sister heard the sound and came out of the boat cabin to meet you at the bow. They were friendly, greeting me with genuine smiles. You said goodbye and said you would come back to me one day in your own boat. I responded with a smile and wished you a pleasant journey.

The white angel gradually faded away from my sight, disappearing into the dividing line between the sea and the sky.

After several months, when Tasha’s children had grown up and learned from their mother to come to the window of the log cabin every morning and wake me up, I found a letter on the ground in front of the door. The envelope was pure white, with the signature in some flying font. Tasha was standing by the window. When she saw me pick up the letter, she rubbed my hand before I opened the envelope, and led me to the shore.

The shore was empty, with nothing but the rising tide of water. Disappointed, I looked at Tasha doubtfully. Tasha rushed to a shoal, paced back and forth, and finally looking at me anxiously. I walked over and was just trying to comfort her that it was okay, when I saw footprints that had not been completely washed out under the shallow water.

You’ve been here, I thought. I opened the envelope and saw your letter saying that you had learned how to drive the Seagull. You sneaked out while your parents were out visiting relatives. But it was your first time you had driven it to sea, you were afraid that you would get lost in the sea and not able to go home on time, so you only left the letter and hurried away. You said you would come back, and I could leave my reply letter on the shore for you to pick up.

In the days that followed, we communicated like this. Every day I would put a letter on the beach, hold it down with a stone, and take your letter from under another stone. Your shared your experiences as you learned to fish and different species of fish you had seen, and I would describe to you the ebbs and flows of the island. From time to time, you put some quirky shells together with the letters, which you said you picked up on other shores when you were out at sea. Once in a while, I could greet you and watch Seagull flying away. You were always smiling and waving to me as Seagull left the shore, the morning sun must had poured its tenderness into your heart.

While you were not around, I would make a bonfire on the beach at sunset, wait for the night to fall, look up and count the stars we’ve counted. Tasha would run out of the woods with her babies and snuggle up next to me for warmth. Time is leisurely and long, filling your shadow inadvertently. 

Finally, a small dot appeared in the dividing line between the sea and the sky, and it was shining white, attracting my attention like a hot incandescent lamp. It was wrapped in the afterglow of the setting sun and carried to me by the sea breeze. I saw a cheerful figure threw the anchor into the water, then jumped off the boat and came to me. Those shining eyes smiled at me, and the afterglow fell into them, filling them with fire-like warmth.

“The Seagull had flown back for you.” He said.

“Didn’t you say you were going to pick me up with your own boat?” I teased him.

“But Seagull is not old yet, it can still fly, and I want it to take you to fly with me, would you like to?” He replied.

The bonfire was crackling behind me, the sea breeze blew past me with a mixture of salty and moist smell. The white angel would take me far away to my new habitat.