Thursday, 15 May 2014

Saltwater seasons.

It was a special treat. We parked the camper on the bluff overlooking the campground and I wasn't doing any chores because I couldn't stop staring out to sea. It was hypnotic. It was colorful. It was everything. Lochlan looked after everything for those three days, including my chores and for the rest of our trips thereafter he parked in the woods, under the trees, making sure I had to walk to find the view.

What happens if you swim all the way across? 

You'd be in Ireland. Maybe Greenland if the currents take you North. 

What about if you swim out but then down?

You mean South. The tropics, the Caribbean. Where it's warm by the equator. 

We should go there. 

We can't take our camper. 

Why not?

It doesn't float, Peanut. 

Then we should buy a boat-camper. 

That's just a boat. Anything bigger than a rowboat we could probably live on. 

Let's go where it's warm then. 

Are you cold, Bridgie?

Freezing. 

Why didn't you say something?

Because yesterday you yelled at me for whining. 

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Yesterday was a bad day but I should never take it out on you. 

He puts his hoodie on me and zips up the front all the way, being careful not to catch my hair but also not putting my arms in the sleeves. I am warm just watching him as he tucks all of my hair into the hood when he pulls it up around my face.

There. His eyes land on mine again and he smiles. Better?

Almost. 

He hugs me close. That better?

Yes. 

But Bridge. 

What?

I can't wash dishes like this.

If we had that boat-camper you could wash them in the ocean. 

That would be gross. 

No, it'd be awesome.