Stars, Storms, and Memories

This here is my entry into the 750 word contest. Parts of this are based on real events. All characters are over 18.

Dedicated to the one who knows how much I love storms.

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I made my way carefully along the rocks that made up the jetty. When I'd first come out here, I hadn't yet turned 30, and the fear of slipping and falling wasn't as sharp as it was now, now that the doctors told me my bones were nothing but calcium ghosts.

I found a spot where I could sit down without having to bend over too much. The stone was cold under me, the padding I'd carried for so many years worn away by illness and age. I pulled my satchel gently from my shoulder and reached in for my travel mug. Peppermint hot chocolate had always been her favorite, and it was the right choice for tonight.

I looked up at the stars, twinkling from their lights' passage through Earth's atmosphere, and I thanked them for their constancy. We changed so much in just a few decades, a blip in their billion-year journeys. We burned bright, but they lasted.

That was the kind of thought that gave me comfort these days. I was alone now, alone in a way I hadn't been since before my first visit to this spot, and I looked for comfort wherever I could find it. I didn't believe in any gods (or Gods, if you prefer), or at least none who would care about such insignificant beings as humans, and thoughts of Heaven or Hell seemed to me no more than wishful thinking and the desire to be rewarded (and have those who wronged us punished).

And yet, I didn't want this to be the end. I'd said goodbye, but my heart hurt when I thought it might be forever.

The only other thing in my satchel was a sealed jar, the kind usually used for canning. This one was filled with a fine ash instead of preserves or vegetables. It was what I had left of her.

"Oh honey. I wish you could see this with me." My voice was soft, but steady. This was neither the first nor the last stop on my tour of scattering her ashes, and while it always hurt, it was a hurt I could manage. Mostly.

I took another sip of the hot chocolate and continued.

"There's just a hint of a breeze tonight, love. They say that storms may move in later. I've got a room close enough to the beach that I'll hear the waves crash as the storm builds. You know how much I always loved that sound.

"I can't remember where exactly we came that night in our search for privacy, can you? We saw each other so rarely, and when we did, it was so difficult to not touch you every chance I could. We managed, with as many family members around as there were, but it was so hard."

I chuckled. In some ways, I'd always be a twelve year old boy. "So fucking hard. You were so beautiful, and I hated that we had to keep anything between us. But I loved it when you suggested we sneak out here that night."

We'd been in too much of a hurry to do it right. It was chilly and we knew that there was a real risk of discovery, so we pushed each other's jeans down as we kissed frantically. I'd remembered to put a blanket in the trunk of my car, and it seemed like only seconds passed before she was on it and I was between her legs.

She was as wet as I was hard, and the heat of her pussy around my cock was such a contrast to the cold wind on my ass.

I chuckled again. "That was some damned ungainly sex, wasn't it?"

But desire and love won the day, and we both came, crying out louder than we should have into the night.

I returned my mind to the present, although my body sure wanted to stay in that past. I didn't blame it - what old man didn't long for the vitality of youth when sex crossed his mind? But I had a reason for being here tonight, and I was getting cold.

I opened the jar and tilted it slowly to the side. A little of the powder that had been my wife fell out and then was carried away by the breeze.

Closing the jar, I put it and my mug back into the satchel. I could smell the incoming storm on the air, and it was time to be getting inside.