There came a time when we just weren't looking in the same direction anymore. My dreams still consisted of sea spray and salty air, while his view suddenly had the pitter-patter of a baby's first footsteps across a hardwood kitchen floor. We came to realize that the baby, as it waddled away from him, was not running into my arms, but some other girl's. I was not the future mother of his future children. He was not the hand I was holding on the beach, with my coffee in the other. We accepted it and moved on with our own lives. What we didn't realize was how much of each other we would take with us on our separate journeys.