I close my eyes and taste the ocean air — salty, sharp, more wild than even me. It fills my lungs in a way that feels like I’m inhaling freedom itself. The breeze brushes against my skin, cool and soft. Much better than the stale, recycled air of life in prison. And though I can still feel the weight of those walls sometimes, the way they pressed in on me, I remind myself that now, the only thing pressing me is my ambitions.
As I stand on the deck of my brother’s first yacht, I can’t help but tear up as I feel the breeze that I once feared I’d never experience.
The years I spent behind bars felt like a lifetime. The concrete floors were cold. The steel bars were rusty. And regret was a daily reminder. But in my time of misery, there was still two things that brought me peace — my brother and the sound of waves I could just barely hear outside the windows of my prison.
Jamie. My little brother. While I was the troublemaker, he was the dreamer. And when I got out of prison, the millionaire.
He always had the big ideas. And though I would do anything for my family, it was clear in my actions I was selfish. Not him, though.
When I was locked away he built an empire just like he said he would. He paid for our moms medical expenses just like he said. He retired our dad just like he said. He never forgot me, nor did he let me rot in those damn prison walls…just like he said.
As I stand at the edge of the boat, it rocks gently beneath my feet. A rhythm so natural it reminds me of how my mom would rock me in her arms long before she ever got sick.
A tear slides down my cheek, and though I want to wipe it away, I know more will come. But in a weird way, I kind of want them to.
“We made a promise to each other when we were younger,” I say to my brother without turning away from the ocean. And though the way the big boat sways is comforting, my legs start to feel so weak. “But still I let you down.” Water splashes over my face, hiding the way my cheeks are already damp. “I don’t deserve your grace, Jamie.”
He laughs, “Nor do we deserve Gods’. But still, he gives it.” He walks away and comes back with a towel, “now wipe your face. This is only the beginning.”
I turn to finally look at him, “but where do I begin?”
“With gratitude,” he responds as he stands next to me. He doesn’t say anything else, nor does he need to. We share a look, and in that moment, I realize exactly what he’s saying. But more than that, the bags under his eyes tell me the years of sleep he’s lost because of me. He didn’t just get me out of prison. He gave me back my life.
Years of bitterness, regret, even anger, all seem to wash away as the ocean cleanses me. I put my arm over his shoulders and pull him close as I squeeze him, “thank you.”
He laughs, “I thought I was the crybaby?”
I look out at the horizon, the sun now almost fully set, painting the sky in deep purples and blues. The ocean glows with the last light of the day, and in that glow, I see my future—wide open, full of endless possibilities. I don’t know where I’ll go next, and honestly, that’s the beauty of it. I don’t have to know. All that matters is that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m free.
“Oh, how times have changed.”
