The gulf waves call to her.
She takes care of her final business. Not much to it. She was already down to practically nothing to call her own.
She attends her final church service. As usual, she leaves alone and unnoticed. As she drives away, she waves her final goodbye to her friends inside who are enjoying the camaraderie and planning lunch or how they'll meet up during the week. She drives through her hometown, giving a final wave to the place that gave her some good memories yet caused her so much pain. She keeps driving south; down. Down like the rest of her life.
She makes it to Fort Walton Beach just as the sun is setting, parks her car and heads for a secluded area on the shore.
As she watches the waves, she remembers the end of a book from a college Literature class in which the principle female character goes to the beach, strips, and swims out into the ocean, never to return. The book called the act "delicious."
The waves keep calling to her.
As she leaves her few ragged clothes on the shore and heads into the water, she feels the deliciousness of it. Stripped free--free from all hindrances, free to wave goodbye to all pain and shame, goodbye to a life that was killing her slowly and torturously. As she gets to the point of no return, as she heads for her blessed appointment with the Almighty, floating on her back, for the first time in a long time, she smiles. Not a fake smile to keep others happy, but the true joy of waving off her failures. And blissfully she rests.