The compass that saw a sea again

by Alina Shalukhina March. 13, 2019 367 views

A compass has always sounded to me like something sea-related. And from very my childhood I have had one and kept it, maybe, not as thoughtfully and attentively as it probably should have been done, but always – nearby. I knew about that item that it was already in my imaginary suitcase of memories as an artifact, and touching the thing could easily bring me back to gently wavering grass I liked to lie on so much. There was no sea, only the sun, and the wind, but those two cosmic forces were ample to hear a roaring sea in rustling leaves. I was gone astray, and the nonexistent sea was lazily splashing against the walls of my pounding heart.

When I talked to my father asking him how old (or even how ancient) the compass was, he always said: "It was somewhere by a side since I can remember." This instrument used to belong to my grandfather, and he would go to taiga with it to know the direction and to find his path in the event of getting lost. The compass saved lives, and thus it gained its patina of realness and perception of becoming a piece of art. Two human generations later, this black round case with the glittering silver inside doesn't have to save lives anymore. But I am grateful to it for shielding the past lives, and I brought the compass to salty waves today. Why? Perhaps, because there is no more grass I used to dream lying on, and there isn't that sky in those summers anymore...

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