I sit on my balcony, my gray hair flying across my face and the sea breeze floating along my wrinkled skin. The ocean is right in front of me, I could throw a rock and it’d plummet into the sapphire depths. The air was crisp, its smell was salty, yes, but something more. It held secrets, and seemed to hold the key to a vault of memories and a vast collection of stories that “once were”. I remembered my husband and I as young adults, we were fresh out of college and naive, but madly in love. We’d just bought this house after years of saving since high school (yes, he was my high school sweetheart) and On our first night as a married couple we took advantage of the benefits that were given us as man and wife, but then we got dressed and strolled underneath the stars, the sand between our toes and we talked about our dreams. This was where I told him I was pregnant, where our sons and daughters took their first steps, got a taste of salt water up their nose and even learned to surf. Our family had known nothing but this ocean air. But then we lost track of the scent of the salty vanilla sands and moved to the city, it’s here that things got rocky. My husband and I faltered in our story and separated, eventually divorcing after months of failed attempts at reconciling. What we fought over I forget now, but I’ve never remarried, seemed a waste of my time and to be honest, I’ve compared every man to him ever since. Once divorced, We sold our beach home, vowing never to look back. Years have past since all that, our kids have kids and they’re going on to have their kids, but I made my way back to this briny smell. It’s nostalgic tendencies have brought tears to my eyes many times and so when I saw this house for sale again some months ago, I impulsively purchased it. I couldn’t tell you why, other than I’ve gone soft in my old age and just wanted to near my end with thoughts of happy times. I close my eyes now and just rock in my old rickety rocking chair, the seas timeless aroma filling my nose, and… my name being called in the distance. My old eyes reopen and I slide my glasses higher onto the bridge of my nose and I think, “It finally did it. It brought him home.”