Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Write a Coming OF AGE short story (11/20/14)
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TITLE: Coconut Jones | Previous Challenge Entry
By Melissa Lindsey
11/26/14 -
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After the shock wore off, I lost my mind for a bit. We were real close, Dad and me. Fishing, boating, surfing. I was always by his side.
My solace came in climbing to the top of the tallest coconut tree on the beach where I would sit for hours and contemplate life. Up in that tree, I would look out over the coastal blue waters for miles and miles. Somehow, this made me feel closer to my Dad.
This became my afternoon routine. Everyone on the island knew where they could find me come five o'clock. Thus, "Coconut Jones" was born.
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Looking back, I'm not sure if you would say that Mr. Cleo found me or I found him. Either way, it was a meeting of fate.
The afternoon was warmer than usual and I couldn't get comfortable in my perch amongst the palm fronds. As I shifted to find a better shaded area, my foot struck a large coconut sending it hurling to the ground.
"Ooomph," came the pained response from below.
I shimmied down that tree so fast that I scraped both knees raw.
" I'm sorry mister! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," said the man, while rubbing his head. "What in the dickens are you doing up in that tree, boy?"
"Well, sir, it's kind of become my thinking spot. They call me 'Coconut' by the way."
The laugh came from deep in his belly and I was drawn to him immediately. "Now imagine that. Only I could manage to get hit with a coconut by a Coconut. I'm Cleo Nunez," he said, extending his hand.
That was the day my afternoon reflections on life moved from atop the tree to a seat on the sand beneath it, right alongside Mr. Cleo.
He was there without fail. Every day. At five o'clock.
Like me, Mr. Cleo was born on the island. His father had also made his living from the sea. We were both only children. We both loved the lull of the ocean and hated the screeching cry of the seagull. We loved storms. We hated being indoors. The similarities were unending.
Mr. Cleo became my best friend. I trusted him with everything I had. I could talk to him about anything without judgment or ridicule.
One afternoon as we sat under our tree, a tropical storm blew up. We stayed and watched it as long as we could. It was beautiful. In a time span of less than an hour, the sky transformed from clear blue, to streaks of pink, and finally to rolling, tumbling, devilish black clouds. Palm trees swayed and bent almost to their breaking point. Ocean waves crashed against the shore with gargantuan force. I knew this was the type of storm that had taken my father.
We sought shelter inside a local beachside diner and as we continued to watch the landscape take a beating, I asked Mr. Cleo the question that had been occupying my minds for months.
"Mr. Cleo, do you believe there is a God?"
"Well but of course Coco," he said without hesitation. "Why? Don't you?"
"I thought I did, but why would God take my Dad when I need him so much?"
Mr. Cleo inhaled and exhaled deeply… "I have wrestled with this same question many times son. Life is hard. The best answer that I can give you is that God had a reason. Our human minds simply cannot comprehend the ways of God. We will struggle with this all the days of our life. Seek God my boy and be patient. We haven't talked about this before Coco, but I lost my son, Robert, when he was about your age. It has been almost twenty years since God took him home and not a day went by that I didn't ask why. The day that we met, I was having an especially trying day. It was Robert's birthday. I was standing under that coconut tree praying for God to finally show me a purpose in his untimely death. God is good and he is merciful. He led me to you."
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