IJmuiden by Dirk Stiller

The Heartache Of Leaving IJmuiden.

Covered in tears, I am standing in the threshold of the beach cottage near the South Pier. A beautiful IJmuiden day has just begun. "Dirk, come on, we've got to go!", I hear my grandma saying. Nevertheless, I sneak in real quick to take a last sad look at something which has been our home for the past three weeks until now. Yesterday, it was still warm and comfortable, full of joy and happiness. Now it's cold and unfriendly, empty and organized, as if we've never been here.....through the clean front windows I take a quick look over the beach and the pier and refuse to comprehend that I have to go now. But I know that I finally have to get out of here, and deeply sad I turn around to leave my beloved cottage for the very last time. Instead of my toys there is nothing but our piled up luggage on the back porch, waiting for us to leave. Absent-minded I grasp a couple heavy peaces of luggage while my grandma is locking up the door the last time. That's it, the end. We're out of here......oh, god, now there's only one place waiting for us, back in Germany, hundreds of miles away, I don't want to go back there, no, no, no! I'd love to take that key away from my grandma and go back into the cottage. Now we step into the sands between the cottages, loaded with bags; friends I made during the past weeks are waving goodbye. I turn my head away to cover my tear-covered face. I try to comfort myself with the thought that we are still in IJmuiden, but it doesn't work well because I know that these are the last minutes. To my left I look toward the beach, see the people on their way to go swimming while I face my worst nightmare: leaving IJmuiden. Now we're reaching Paviljoen Zuidpier to give the cottage key back and to say goodbye to the landlord. Instead of going straight smiling toward him and his wife I go to the windows, yearningly looking at the beach and piers, where I won't be able to be for another eternity of a year. "Dirk, don't you want to say goodbye at least? I hear my grandmother complaining like over a long distance. But I ignore, because I don't want to face any goodbyes, it is bad enough already. There I stand, starring through the window, I see clouds throwing shades on the wide beach area; I realize once again how much I love it, and I feel the moment of  final parting approach like an evil force, unstoppable, its ice cold hands are all over my skin, I'm freezing. Again, my grandma tears me out of the dramatic attempt to stretch the last moments into eternity with her statement that it's time to go now. One more time I suck up the familiar delicious smell of fresh made fish 'n chips in the restaurant until I'm finally have to give way out of here. The beachway up to the top of the dunes I expect the last highlight where the main road and the bus stop are. High upon the dunes I am hoping that the bus will be late or even never come. Up here, the familiar wind touches me as if it wants to comfort me as well. In deep breaths I take the fresh air of the sea, I overlook the entire beach and pier area from here, what a view, so famimiar, but it impresses me each time once again. I don't even want to look toward my right, I don't want to know if the bus is approaching, because that bus will be the one mercilessly removing me from this place. The sun comes out and tries to warm me up, but the sunlight makes my mood even worse, because in the sun, everything here looks more impressive. This makes me even more sad. And I am aware that I will be only minutes away from the judge of the ultimative moment of parting. My next wave of crying is close, I feel it, now I am looking behind the seagulls how majestic they cruise across the beach of IJmuiden, as the fatal moment zero strikes hard. I hear the bus stopping behind me. I know that I have to grasp luggage now. I look at that bus as it was devil's face, take the luggage, and with a big rock in mt throat I enter. There I sit now, seconds away from the end of the world, feeling the bus going and gaining speed. I also have to be fast now to see the beach go down behind the dunes; I want to grasp even the very last moment being here. Now the bus makes the left turn into the curve down the dunes toward the harbour. I almost break my neck in the attempt to nail my eyes as long as anyhow possible to the beach and sea, and there it goes, gone...... forever for me. There is no comfort of coming back next year, to me it's like a light year. I give way to my heavy cry spell, I rather die than going back home to Germany...... Slowly my eyes become clearer and I notice that we are riding through the harbour area. "It's still IJmuiden", I think, and this gives me a little relief from my heartache. Sure enough I also love the harbour and the city of IJmuiden, where I spent quite some time, too. Sadly I am passing the Baco-Army-Shop, than entering the Lange Niewstraat, passing Market Square, the post office building and all the other cafes and shops I went so many times before until we are finally leaving IJmuiden and the judge is fully accomplished. Exhausted by the stress of saying goodbye to my beloved place I lean back and think about something I expierienced the opposite way exactly three weeks ago: the arrival! To recall this beautiful memory and to dwell in it all the way home helps me to recover from this difficult situation. Anywhere I am these days, every night before i fall asleep, my thoughts are going to IJmuiden, its beaches, piers, harbours, city and its people. Thank you, IJmuiden, that you exist; these days I am on tropical beaches sometimes at the southern lattitudes of our planet, but I shall never stop dreaming about you.