Sometimes I'm Happy

Sometimes I’m Happy by Marion Foreman
She walked with purpose, aiming to get to the lighthouse. It was a big decision but she would do it. The sea was to her left and the marshes to her right. The light was good and the path ahead, at the moment, was clear.
The difference between the sea and the marsh wasn’t clear. The relentless pressure had blurred the edges, the road being dragged in by the waves. She felt the pull and the battle.
There were few people out today, sometimes it boarded on crowded, but not today. The grey sky had combined with the cold, making the bleakness inhospitable. But she was confident, she would do it. She had her kagool, her shoes were serviceable; all would be well. She had done it before of course, with him.
They had walked together often. She liked to remember the lack of words fondly. And it didn’t matter if they didn’t hold hands, after all, they did go to bed together. She had loved him. She did love him.
The wind caught at her and she stuffed her hands into her pockets. The rucksack felt heavy. Was the flask really necessary? The lighthouse seemed to recede with every step. The waves were high today and the tide was in so far. The marsh seemed to be filling up. She scrambled over the broken path. The concrete was in great chunks, no longer a way thorough, simply a tangle of obstacles to be navigated.
For a few moments she felt him walking beside her. Strong, capable and protective. Then he was gone and the fragility returned. The clarity that she once had between the him she loved and the way he behaved seemed to ebb and flow. Like the tide, her doubt came in fast. She was a broken as the stone. She had been scared so much of the time; living with him was perilous.
The couple heading towards her looked like professionals. Proper jackets, sturdy walking boots and sticks – nothing left to chance there.
‘You need to be careful’ the woman said, ‘its likely to flood and you’ll get cut off – did you know that?’
She nodded and mumbled her thanks. Of course she knew that. She had read the note in the shelter. She knew that today was one of those days. The days when the sea fully met the marsh and the path just didn’t exist. One of those days when your thoughts clashed with your emotions and overwhelmed. She had got through before and she would again.
When she got to the lighthouse she sat at the table and drank some tea. She nibbled on the biscuits she had carted all this way. She knew she should start back but it was so hard. Turning around was difficult. She had struggled to get this far, but she knew she couldn’t rest long.
Her pace back to base was slow. Going back on yourself seemed so fruitless. There were so many obstacles but she couldn’t stay where she was, she would get swamped. One step at a time – it was all she could do. The wind was biting cold now and her eyes were watering. But she had no choice, she couldn’t stay where she was, she would drown.
When she reached the lowest point the water was lapping over. No clear boundaries any more. She paddled through. It was icy and unkind. It would have been easier to stay where she was. She dithered about which way to go. She pressed on; she knew that if she went back she would be marooned. She wanted to get back to her house, to her home. The peace and quiet. She wanted to leave the inhospitable to flood and die. Her feet were wet but she had no choice – if she wanted to survive she would have to go through this pain.
Her hands were almost too cold to manage the car keys, but she wasn’t giving up – she had come so far. The heater warmed her up, the dregs of the tea defrosted the inside of her.
The sea raged now but she was safe again. She would have a curry this evening.
‘Sometimes,’ she thought ‘I’m happy’.