(Known her forever but it's like we just met.)
Back to the sea early today. Well, late enough that the children were up for school already (in a blur of honour roll certificates found crumpled among science papers and the excitement of graduation photos/shoes/dresses/tickets/fundraisers and college applications, mind you) and the men (it's time to stop calling them boys) had scattered to the four corners of the house and beyond.
I avoided the rocks as promised, hugging the cliff as I make my way left to the beach, slowly. When I get past the boulders and down to fine peagravel and sand I march right up to the tide and crouch down, sticking my hands in the water, flat, palms down. Up to the bracelets is as far as I can go else I'm facefirst in the seaweed.
Hello again. I'm here.
The cold saltwater (my blood, I swear) stings a cut on my hand and whitens my skin as my bluer, undiluted blood beats a hasty retreat back to my heart. The draw threatens to pull me in but it's only teasing.
I did it, I tell her. I made it back to him. She pulls back in blind surprise, before rushing at me for a brief frigid embrace. I stand up and take two big steps backward so the water doesn't flood into my rainboots. Eventually I learn the lessons I am meant to. It just takes a long time.
I go into the driftwood house. I sit on the little shelf-bench and look out the doorless doorway. The Pacific ocean is framed perfectly here. I watch the tide become higher. It won't be all the way in until dinner time but it was lowest while I slept in Lochlan and Ben's arms through the darkest hours. She's already busy covering the treasures she dropped on her hasty middle of the night retreat, knowing I'm awake and searching. I don't mind. She'll do it again tomorrow and every day after. And I'll be here to see it. I'll be here to collect them.
I'll be here.
