text: “Charlie... Wake up. Listen.” Amy shook me gently by the shoulder until I stirred. She was out of bed, standing by my side, framed by the soft morning light that spilled through the bedroom window. “What is it? What time is it?” I sat up, reaching for the clock on the bedside table. It read 4:17am. I groaned. “Shhh! Listen,” she said, moving to the window. She placed her hands on the sill and looked out over the garden. “I can hear a Nightingale.” Sure enough, amongst the dawn chorus, one voice rose above the rest, undulating gracefully around the harsher cadences of the morning ensemble. “Isn’t it beautiful?” My heart performed a pirouette. I wanted to tell her that the beauty of it was the re-appearance of her smile, which had been missing since that day at the beach. Instead, I motioned for her to come back to bed. She came and sat beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. We sat there awhile, listening to the birdsong. I held her close and ran my fingers through her pillow ruffled hair. “Did you sleep well?” I asked. She shrugged. A look of sorrow shadowed her face, like a cloud that briefly hides the sun on a summer’s day, stealing the warmth from the moment. I knew the dream that kept her awake at night - I had it too. It was always the same... In the dream, we’re at the beach, walking along the shoreline with El by our side. The sky is murky, like dirty dish water suspended above the Earth. It only takes a moment -- a moment of carelessness; a moment of distraction; a moment of lifetime regret - but it’s enough. Suddenly, El is screaming, struggling to keep her head above the steel grey waves that swirl angrily around her. I shout until my throat is hoarse with desperation, wishing I could lash the waves into obedience, but the sea does not listen - it is wild and untamed. Lately, I was having the dream less frequently. I hoped Amy wasn’t far behind. They say time is a healer, but since that day at the beach, I disagree. Time is a counsellor; one who urges you to replay a moment over and over, to think about it from every possible angle and then break it apart so you can re-structure it and over-analyse it anew. Then finally something cracks, and a chink of light shines through; a smile. Amy kissed my cheek as if she’d read my mind. She asked if I wanted coffee and climbed from bed. I nodded, watching her across the room. There was a crack in the plaster wall above the door-frame, and as she passed through, I disappeared through the crack... In my mind, I was at the beach again, only this was a different day; one of the countless moments that had been hidden beneath a shield of grief. I could hear the surf washing lazily upon the shore. The sun was at my back and a light breeze ruffled my hair. Warm white sand caressed my toes as I climbed the dune to where Amy and El were laughing and joking. They teased me for taking so long. I took El’s hand and put my arm around Amy’s waist, happy just to be with them. Together, we looked across the bay and watched the setting sun turn the sea into liquid gold before our eyes. Amy re-entered the room holding two steaming cups of coffee. We locked smiles and I swear there was light shining through the crack beside the door. I think Amy could see it too.