Walking With Ghosts

She was already at the entrance when he came down the stairs from his pension.

"Hello!" she called out.

"Morning," They exchanged hugs. "How's it going?"

"Good, good," she replied.

He laughed, shaking his head and pointed to the bright pink scooter, "Yours?"

"Yup. Got it 3 months ago. Helps me get around the city you know. Pretty, isn't she?" she asked, patting the seat of the scooter lovingly.

"Suits you somehow. But not so my colour," he said.

She grinned. "So, slept well last night?"

"More or less. Didn't sleep a lot though."

"Did the tikiteo?"

"I had to," he replied.

"Told you didn't I? The pintxo here is the best. Here, put this on," she said, handing him a purple helmet.

"What? We are going to ride this?"

"What else? Come on!" she put on her own helmet.

"You gotta be kidding," he said as he put on his own helmet.

"Hop on!" she urged.

He got on behind her. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist. "Hang on tight."

The engine roared to life and he held on as the little pink scooter suddenly threw itself forward. The few people already up from the previous night's exertions looked amused as she navigated the narrow streets of San Sebastian's Old Quarter expertly, albeit noisily. Soon, they came to Paseo Nuevo. A few people were gathered there, watching the waves crash against the sea wall. She slowed down, as though she was contemplating making a stop to join them, but picked up speed again. They rode along the coast, past the white beaches that have made San Sebastian popular as a summer vacation getaway.

They stopped somewhere before the El Peine del Viento, the sculpture of one of San Sebastian's most famous sons Eduardo Chillida.

She removed her helmet, and her hair flew from the winds blowing from the Atlantic. He removed his helmet too, and came up to her side. She was looking at the waves crashing relentlessly against the sculpture.

She turned to him, brushing her hair away from her eyes, "I don't understand what he was doing. Was he trying to make a stand? What was he trying to prove? What is the point of putting that in the sea?"

He didn't reply her.

"Ridiculous," she said and stared out at the bay, this time eastwards, at the Island of Santa Clara, lost in her thoughts.

She reached into her sling bag, taking out a flower, which she stared at for a second, before flinging it out into the water, where it was instantly devoured by the incoming wave, only to reappear moments later, further out on the sea.

She sniffed, and he put an arm around her.

"I am ok, I am ok," she said softly, patting his arm, before removing it.

"He's still here, you know. I can feel it. Everywhere. His laughter, his nagging. Everything. It is like walking with ghosts. The other day, I went up Igeldo and I was looking out at San Sebastian, and I heard him say, 'Look, the bay is the oyster and the pearl is San Sebastian.' He has been telling me that since I was a child. When I was 5, and now when I am 20. Doesn't he get tired of it?"

"San Sebastian is your grandfather's life. It meant everything to him, the city, the sea…"

"That's why he gave his life to the sea. I know. I know," she nodded furiously and wiped away a tear. "That's why I respect his decision to try and swim across to the island with all the other people. But I have never forgiven him for it."

"It's been a year. Why don't you let it go?"

"He's my only family. I have never seen my father. I never saw my mother again after she brought me here. And… I am sorry. You are right, you are right. I shouldn't keep going on and on. You didn't come all the way back to San Sebastian to listen to me rant."

"I came to see you, see how you are doing. And also your grandfather. He is a good man… Try and forgive him…and yourself. I know you blame yourself for not being able to stop him," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I will…try," she finally said.

"Good," he sucked in a huge breath of air. "It's beautiful here. I never cease to be amazed by this view, this place."

"You know, sometimes I feel like I need to leave this place."

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. I have been here almost all my life, all that I can remember. It's everything I know. Where can I go? Where do the people who come and go every summer come from? Where do you come from?"

"Somewhere far away. Without a sea. That's why we come here."

"Without a sea, huh? That sounds good. I don't know, I feel like I can't look at the sea sometimes; I can't listen to it; I can't live for it anymore. My grandfather died for it."

"What is worth dying for, is worth living for, don't you think?"

She looked at him.

"Your grandfather said that to me last year." He smiled at her. "We talked late into the night. You know, when I first came here, I was so burnt out. So tired of everything. Nothing was just going right. I came here on a whim. I just wanted to get away. I found myself again, and was at peace with myself. But I also realized that my place isn't here, but where I came from. This place, the sea, the people, your grandfather, you, gave me the strength to go back and live on. "

"How have you been this past year?"

"Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Like the waves, you know. Up and down. But I know it is all part of life. Like the seasons. Summer comes and goes. What about you? Summer's ending. Did you fall in love this summer?"

"No. At least not yet."

"Have you ever seen the Pacific?" she suddenly asked.

He nodded.

"I have never seen the Pacific."

"It's beautiful too. It's different from the Atlantic. You should go and see it one day."

"I think I will. See the Pacific. Maybe fall in love too. But I think I will come back… I know I will come back."

And they both stared silently as the waves crashing against Chillida's sculpture in the sea, again and again.

Even the stormiest of seas can be soothing .Look at it, listen to it, become one with it, and you can find peace within yourself.

Her grandfather seemed to be saying in his soft, gentle voice, amidst the noisy waves.