The Message in a Bottle

The waves crashed along the pacific shoreline louder than usual. The clouds above sobbed and the wind wailed as John walked along the deserted beach. John had missed the ocean, the luscious foliage, and the rain that North Oregon promised. He missed it because he felt what the sky felt in the pacific northwest. His hometown was extremely different than the city which made him realize he was wired far different from city life. Since a child, John had dreamed of living in a big city, where there was never silence. Becoming a successful film creator and living in one of the many skyscrapers was a dream of his. He thought the fast-paced city life was better than the slow paced rural life, and it wasn’t until he was a year into his city adventure that he realized he took it all for granted. He went from living in a small apartment above a camera shop with roommates to a small camper van on his own that he moved along the coast frequently. He enjoyed the quiet mornings, filled with nothing but the birds wishing him good morning. As his sluggish footsteps disappeared into the sand behind him, he looked out upon the ocean, reminiscing on every choice he made to lead him back here. Every job, food truck, and the people he left behind in New York. The ocean brought John peace, no matter how enraged it was. The grey horizon blended in with the water, creating an abyss. He always wondered if the choice he made to move back to where he grew up along with the trees was right; if any of the choices he had made in this life were right. If he was being honest with himself, he was lost.

Between the force of the waves and the whistling wind, the sound of glass clinking caught John's attention. In a small tide pool, a glass bottle glistened as it swayed with the tide. He held down his hood as he quickened his pace towards the pool, shielding his hazel eyes from the wind. Upon approaching the tide pool, John let out a small chuckle as he realized it was a message in a bottle. The small bottle was lodged between seaweed and a small sea anemone, its tentacles leeched onto the dissolving cork. Removing one of his mittens, John reached into the frigid water and removed the bottle before another wave decided to take it. It was a tincture bottle, the color of his eyes. Upon further examination, he noticed whatever rigid edges the small bottle once had were frosted over, beaten smooth by the ocean.

“This thing must’ve been out there awhile”, he muttered to himself, astonished.

Looking around at the rocky coastline, he wondered how it couldn’t have shattered along its journey. As he stood there enthralled, the sky began to cry harder. He sought shelter upon a driftwood branch under a large tree more inland. There John sat, attempting to pry the soggy cork from its snug spot. He noticed it was simply falling apart the more he pried, so he grabbed a small stick and began digging, his curiosity sparking. After only a few minutes of digging, he held his palm out and let the small scroll slide into it with ease. Unrolling the brown-tinged paper, he was surprised to find it was typewritten, seeing where certain letters stuck harder than others. The letter read:

To whom this concerns, Life is a journey, it is not a routed journey with directions and pre-picked rest stops, it is one you figure out along the way. I hope whoever has found this resonates with these words.

Best regards,

Jameson August 24, 1952

John felt the familiar sting of tears welling, they brought warmth as they fell down his face. He re-read the short letter over, sighing. That one letter had the power to offer him clarity, his mind was quiet for once. Putting the letter back in the small brown bottle, he placed it in his raincoat pocket and stood up from the log. He stared at the continuous rainfall, each drop glimmering from the hidden sun. He took off his raincoat and shoes and ran towards the coastline. He was grinning and laughing and for once, instead of being afraid of the journey he was enjoying it. Drenched from head to toe he danced in the sand on the deserted beach. A large set of waves came in, beating against the eroded coastline. The tide came in, covering the once visible tidepool until the moon said goodbye and the sun beamed hello.