“Oh wow!” she muttered taking in the vistas in front of her. Blue-green waters splashing, sand picking up shades from the rising sun and isolation. The beach was free of people at this hour. Another couple of hours later, the Lees, who owned the Asian place around the corner would walk their dog, shielding their faces against the rising sun. They would mutter a quick hello and did not expect any conversation. She loved it. The almost invisible existence. 

She had been here in this self-imposed exile for the past 6 months, seeking answers. Scanning the skies, the seas, the emails, and Facebook wall posts. Hoping for a clue to jumpstart her investigation. Hoping for answers to the questions everyone asked her. Answers she did not know. Answers she desperately craved for.

Pre-dawn hours had always been her favorite. Something magical always happened as the sun illuminated her corner. It dispelled the insecurities of the inky nights. The dark indentation and the shadows disappeared. The little known places her illusions took her under the covers of the night. She looked forward to the imperceptible signs of daybreak in despair as she struggled under the strangling holds of insomnia.

The first chirp of the birds, the blush of color across the skies set the ball rolling. She would soon make her way to the waterfront looking for inspirations. Sea glass, driftwood, abandoned footwear, plastics that should not be there. Anything that caught her fancy. “One man’s junk” she hummed as she scanned the sands and the sea.

But this dawn was different. It was the 14^th of November – his birthday. A day they were supposed to meet. Right here, on the beach and celebrate. Celebrate his birthday and the completion of his crazy plan to travel across the Americas on a bike. First a dream then was the plan – a well-laid one before they lost contact. Somewhere in the middle of the jungles of South America, they lost contact.

Inquietude and anger seeped in her bones. She could not ignore the restlessness. She felt irked and incommode. She looked at the seas in front of her – lapping against her feet gently. The warm surf tickling her feet, she willed herself to calm down. To ignore the dreams of the night before, the fear and the illusions. “Time for tea” she declared aloud walking back to the house.

“An infusion of herbs is what I need. Chamomile and lemon balm. Licorice and California poppy blossoms. Sweetened with lavender honey. That’s what I need” she thought. An infusion to dispel the inquietude and to inspire. With a cup of tea, she sat in the balcony watching the waves seeking answers to questions that haunt. Answers the seas did not have. Pulling her laptop open, she logged on to the usual haunts – Facebook search pages filled with fake leads and messages meant to cheer her up. Friends and strangers flooded her with messages.

“Why? Why me? Where are you?” the questions mingled with tears. There was no answer. Not one. Silence greeted her. Tears pooled her eyes. It was not easy – easy being the wife or should it be a widow of an adventurer who seemed to have vanished from the face of earth while living his dream.

I really did not know what I was thinking when I signed up. I had a tough time with I. I found words but could not write about them. I wrote stuff that did not lead anywhere. It was frustrating. This post has lot of I’s in it. K to Z are open in case you have recommended words.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.