One day, she just stopped waiting.
The letters went and went, always they were there when the tide was going out but never when it was coming in, and she sat on a wooden chair at the kitchen table and drew shapes in the coffee she had spilled that morning.
She decided that enough was enough, slipped out of her housecoat, her blue slippers that had once belonged to a friend that no longer exists as such, and left the house. She went out tentatively at first, but the ocean greeted her and caressed her thighs and hips in a way she hadn’t felt in, well, had she felt it ever before? If the letters wouldn’t come to her, she would seek them out, and as the sea encouraged her further on her resolve grew stronger.
A wave reached up to kiss her face, and for a moment she was Nothing and Everything. She couldn’t walk anymore, only allow the ocean to pull her, to bury her, to wrap her up in its cold, cold arms. And there, in the depths of the dark, before her last breath escaped her, she saw them. She saw them all.