It was a cold and dark night.
Jackie was preparing to go sailing, putting on his boots as usual.
There was a heavy rain.
I remember he said he would be home right after sailing. And he went.
I waited for him to come back, but he didn't.
It was about 4 a.m.
The next day, a light of the sun was on my face when I opened my eyes.
I got up and looked around.
It was afternoon.
I opened each door in the house to check if he had come back from sailing.
He wasn't anywhere.
I waited days and nights.
I listened attentively to every sounds.
Footsteps outside the door, the barking of dogs, the creaking of a postman's bicycle and even the boiling of a kettle in my kitchen.
All sounds became the sounds of him.
Three days later, an young man came and said, "your Jackie's gone.
He's lost in the rain".
I ran to the beach.
Tears were trickling down my cheeks, but I didn't care.
I could see only a few of people on the beach, but not Jackie.
He had to be there as I believed.
I prayed he would be somewhere on the sand, see me, come up to me and say "I'm sorry, the sea was so beautiful that I didn't right come back home", even if it was a silly joke.
May 2016
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