Hanging by the Threads of a Hammock

I started following a writer’s page on here that posts weekly writing prompts to encourage people to write short pieces about a certain topic, and the idea of sharing my writing with the world has never crossed my mind because I honestly didn’t think that I would ever feel bold enough to do it. For a long time, writing has been my escape: a way to untangle my thoughts and make sense of my feelings (which have always been so many). Even when I stopped doing it, I would still long for the feeling of putting my words on paper, wishing they would find someone somewhere who feels the same way at the right time just to feel less alone; but mostly to feel heard. Anyway, I came across one of the prompts a couple of weeks ago and I immediately felt called to just write something, anything about it. The prompt was ‘a summer memory’ and it led to a short piece about first loves, youthful longing, and loss. Spoiler alert: it didn’t get picked for publication, but that’s okay. It was a transformative moment for me nevertheless for a couple of reasons. First, I felt proud of myself for sharing one of my pieces with the world for the first time ever without overthinking or doubting myself, even though it probably wasn’t my best work, but the whole experiment itself was worth it for me. The fact that someone, if not a whole board of writers, might have skimmed through it or even read all of it is quite astonishing to me, and that’s what I choose to take away from this experience. Second, I didn’t think I would ever be able to write about this particular chapter of my life and that past relationship because it hurt too much for so long. But, I realized that I have done enough healing and growing to finally be able to make sense of what I went through and how I felt back when I was just a hopeless romantic teenager. I know who I am as a woman now, and this version of me refuses to keep running from the past but rather chooses to face it, own it, and keep learning from it. Without further ado, I will insert my submission titled ‘Hanging by the Threads of a Hammock’ below for anyone who’s interested in reading it, but also for myself to always look back on whenever I feel like taking a leap.

It was one too many summers ago when I was consumed by the trance of being young and in love. If someone asked me what the color of the sky was or how hot the sun was burning, I wouldn’t remember a single detail because this part of my life, especially that particular summer, belonged to one boy, and in hindsight, nothing else mattered. Memories fade and wither away but there was this one moment that’s engraved in my mind as a true core memory. Perhaps it wasn’t really that special or remarkable but it all comes down to the way it made me feel; a feeling of serenity and freedom that struck me as a rare occurrence in my youth.

It was summertime, a hot and sticky average beach day, but I was spending it with the first boy I ever called mine and we were by ourselves. We were accompanied by some friends, but it felt like it was just the two of us because I wouldn’t be able to tell you what their names were or what they were doing. We found a hammock by the beach and decided to try lying on it while holding each other hoping we wouldn’t fall off and ruin this epically romantic moment. I was very nervous to close the space between us and feel the proximity of his body next to mine, but something in me just wanted to fade into him anyway.

We sat there in an embrace in utter silence just listening to the sound of the waves and each other’s breaths. There was no need to say anything or even talk about how amazing that moment felt, we both just silently agreed on savoring every minute of it and let our minds wander freely. My heart was doing flips on the inside as he pulled me in tighter, but all I could really think about was his heartbeat and how it was guiding me to feel, breathe, and exist in that moment. I could swear it felt like I flatlined at some point because the world around me just turned into dust and I was only aware of the nerves in my body igniting every time his heart took another beat near my ears. I wanted the world to stop because I knew, with all the conviction in my heart, that that moment was just too special to be fleeting. The strings of my heart were intertwined with the threads of a hammock that will forever hold a piece of my life crippled with what could have been.

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