Originally written on November 18, 2020
I would close my eyes and find myself beside the ocean. The waves crashing powerfully on the sand and rocks. A welcome embrace or a dreaded expectation? The sound of rocks rolling back to their brief resting place only to be pushed over and over again. The wind rushing past catching every hair on my head like kite strings. It’s cold here. I’m wearing a jacket and scarf. The mist and fog come and go but often they stay near by clinging to my skin. On the days when the fog takes a rest the sun shines brightly but it’s still cold. One dip into the water and you’ll know it’s icy demeanor. Not unkind. Just cold. Deep and full of mystery. I’m drawn back here time and time again. Pulled by some invisible tether that binds me. I’m far away now but I can still feel the tug. You amaze me in every way. The endlessness of the horizon on your back, the secrets that lay within, the promise of adventure, the different forms of life. When I was little I would run right in with no fears picking at the rocks in the shallows grabbing snails or seaweed to stockpile as treasures. I’d burry my small body in the warm sand just to have a reason to run back in and rinse off. I’d smell the salty air and watch the shoreline disappear when the waves grew shorter. What a delight! I have no interest in waiting on the sidelines. I want to be soaked. Cold. Shivering. I want to grow gills and live inside of you. Take a shocking breath filling my lungs with ice water to find out I can breathe. Thrive even. I’ll swim deeper and deeper until I’m tired. Until I can swim anymore. My skin will grow scales and my fingers will grow webs. You’ll be all around me. I’ll be safe in your embrace. Until then I’ll keep checking the water to see if it’s time. Dreaming of my adventure. I’ll wade in and spend hours checking for scales. When they don’t come I’ll retreat for now. I’ll never give up hope. It will happen when I least expect it.
