A rock that juts out into the ocean

A rock that juts out into the ocean; but so much more than that. For me, it’s all about location. What makes me so special? I suppose it isn’t really my structure; a cement crevice that cuts through the harbour. I am not even smooth cement, I am a rock with cement-in-between, filling my naturally developed holes. I would be much nicer if I were a wooden pier; with some pylons  that man might even attach a rope and a boat to. But that’s not me. I am regular cement square that holds two paths together and leans over just a bit further towards the harbour. But there is so much more.

Here it is; twenty people, clustered around and upon me. Some quiet chatter, some not sure what to say. A silencing affect seems to be a part of my nature. The onlookers (there are always onlookers), are wondering what is going on.  The tourists stop taking photos of the glamorous bridge and sunset behind me, and ask one another what is happening on top of me. A runner (there are always runners), slows down but he cannot see what is going on, so he continues (and there are always those who continue). It is a short moment; short, sweet and shocking. But I have been through it before.

Two people; an older man and woman step out to my edge, the edge that is closest to the ocean, rather than the rock pools on my further side. One woman, from within the crowd, presses play on her portable cd player. A mellow tune. A silent crowd. The two lift a bucket; and ashes dance in the air, living breathing, dreaming until they fall and drown in the ocean. Tears, an ocean of tears overcomes the crowd. Yet still they stand in silent wonder. It is over. Just like that. The ashes are poured out.

The tourists continue walking, taking pictures. The picnickers pick up their sandwiches. The newly-dating couple, who sit just up on the hill take another sip of champagne. The frozen moment melts and is swept into the sea.

I am stepped over by the crowd, crawled away from as if it had to with me. But in a moment again, I am recognized.

Here it is; a young asian bride lifts her dress and comes to stand with me. She lets the wind whisper through her hair as the photographer and her asian groom helps set up the shot. A cream gown, a pale pink sash, and the waves dance over me, flirting with her hem. The previous crowd stand aside but still near. Soothing their moment with idle chatter and a pleasant air of busyness, just watching the bride, the groom and I.

You wouldn’t know it. But I have within me, the power to draw, attract and define life moments. You wouldn’t know it if you looked at me. But then again, if you caught me at that time. If you found me at the edge of the botanical gardens, when the sun is just to the left of the bridge, and the moon peaks out from the Opera House’s tip, then you might know. If you caught me on a Sunday afternoon, when the tide flirts with my sides and the wind whispers just so, then you would know.

You would know that the newly-dating couple had shared a moment while they watched me from their peak on the hill. You would know that later that night they shared and stood upon me as they had their first kiss.

You would know that it was on that evening that the ashes’ sister-in-law’s daughter took her first steps. I held her away from the ocean and can be seen in the photograph on the left corner of the page, in the album that is kept at the grandmother’s house.

You would know that that just two hours prior to the events of which I have spoken; the fourteen year old who had been skating the park with his brother and his sixteen year-old friends had tried his first cigarette.

And whether these moments are public or private. Whether they end up in photographs or not. Whether these moments are recognised, or silently dead. These are moments that I have the priviledge of witnessing.

A rock that juts out into the ocean, but so much more than that. The location is stunning, I know that at every sunset my view is truly blessed. I know I am no beautiful pier, or modern quay. But I am a cement filled rock, deeper than that though, my composition is stone. Rock and stone and cement form my being. Many stones; many milestones are my core, my being. And the life that I capture, the moments that are mostly rocky and significant are those that I hold onto and thank God I have the privilege of being a part.

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5 Comments

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5 responses to “A rock that juts out into the ocean

  1. Lauren w

    This is beautiful… Reminds me of Markus zusak’s writing x

  2. Clare Froggatt

    I love this perspective Emma. Wonder is everywhere, moments, monuments and milestones. You have a tremendous ability to capture what others might not notice, a gift to write and when I spend time with you I always feel enlightened. Like the stone in your writing, I too feel the privilege of witnessing our life.

  3. alex kent

    oh my…this is beautiful

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