The Pier

The Pier

Today I did not see the things that I normally see as I stood at the edge of the pier. I paid no heed to the oil rigs on the horizon, or to the dolphins who seem to fly out of the water, breaking through the reflection of the sun. Not today. I only saw eternity.
I stared off of the pier for hours. I doubt if I had blinked more than twice. I just stared. The sun was setting at the edge of the earth, seemingly nestling into the water.
Hypnotized by the powder blue shimmer of the moon's reflection against the crests of countless waves, my mind began to drift. I now saw something new. My eyes seemed lower to the ground and everything that I saw seemed fresher in these eyes, which I hesitate to say that they were my own.
The ocean seemed unfamiliar, and I saw the first dolphin that these eyes had ever beheld. There was a scooner a couple hundred yards out, and it looked majestic. These new eyes were only accustomed to rafts and canoes. These sights had conjured a tickle in my belly, and a slight giggle rose from my throat.
Suddenly, I felt the most serene, dreamlike catatonia wash over me, like being taken by a wave. Everything had turned to blue, then black. When I awakened, a little girl was standing next to me. She took my hand. When I looked down to the little girl's face, a most surreal happiness was resident to her eyes.
"Are you lost, little girl?"
"Not anymore," she responded. "These were my last memories. I just needed to show someone how beautiful these waves are."
"I know," I said. "I watch them every day."