A cool wind blew off the ocean; it tasted of yesterdays.
Being by the churning Atlantic brought back memories of the past and the weeks I spent at the seaside with family. They were happy times, I think. There was a certain innocence to watching the waves crash against the shore without wondering where they came from or where they’d go.
I started worrying about such things much later in life. There was a name for it, an abbreviation, but I could never recall it; I’d forgotten so much.
But as I took my last laboured breaths those memories returned with a clarity bordering on cutting. Like a crisp winter’s day, they entered my throat, coursed through my veins like ice, froze away the pain.
A cool wind blew off the ocean; it tasted of today. Until I dipped beneath the waves, anyway.