but first – there are desires of suicide and death in this post.

ok

at first, it wasn’t the sea so much as the dark. quiet. expansive. inhale. exhale. all alone. connected. taking off my glasses my world shrinks. even more. an unstoppable relentless covid reality. blurred shapes and gradients of light, fuzzy boundaries of what might be. textured realities. i inhale. i exhale. trading the certainty of vision for the curiosity of my senses.

i’m in my underwear and the humidity still holds the summer heat far too long into the autumn months of the calendar that soon may lose all significance. but for now, i feel warm.

handing my life over to the sea, i move in slowly pausing when the current reaches my knees. i have been here before. should i go in when i know already that i wont want to come back. the sea responded with a beckoning, breaking through the sound of the surf, splashed me at mid-thigh. playful. nonthreatening. i move in. far enough to pee without having to feel it running down my legs and i am reminded at the relief the sea can offer. it could swallow me whole if it wanted to. draining the heat from my body until i succumb to the exhaustion. it might be peaceful. i might not notice. i move forward.

reminding me of whose in charge, the sea rises up embracing my neck, just under my chin still, letting me breathe, reminding me. i could leave it all behind. the roughness of the sea feels warmer than it is and i let it wrap around me. weaving around my body. sliding under my arms, down my back and between my legs. tugging at my thighs, my ankles, my feet lift from the sandy bottom as the sea licks my neck, begging me to make the next move, tasting me. stuck in the seduction of weightlessness. the sea lets me put it all down. merciful. is this what it feels like to be cared for? i could be pulled out. this could be the rest of my life.

and then it was gone, receding back to where it came from, a whisper let me show you what it is to be cared for sucked back without lingering too long on my fingers. i reciprocate the reversion pausing to claim the intimacy of submersion before they come back for another embrace. i am in love with you i said. i will return i said. there is something i have to do. its not time yet. wait for me.