I sit with you.
In the hammock, toes in the sand, under the leafy tree, and the wind moves me.
I am in awe.
I close my eyes. I open them.
The blues and greens and whites of the ocean and of the sky unite on the horizon in a seamless fusion of matter. The two become one and then the one becomes me and then, suddenly, it all makes perfect sense.
The illusions of time and space dissipate until the only thing that matters is the intangible cord that connects us and nourishes us and makes us whole.
You breathe your salty air right into my pores, through my pores, and infiltrate the innermost chambers of my heart.
You swim in my veins and around my organs, dissolving barriers and creating new pathways.
You wake me up.
The sound of the surf lapping against the shore is settling and strengthening. In these waves, I find rhythm, heartbeat, breath.
I linger for hours.
Taking you in. Tasting you and cherishing you and allowing myself to be cherished in return. There is so much love here, on this deserted stretch of beach, at five o’clock in the morning.
I dread the moment of separation. I don’t ever want to leave you. But I know I have to because there is no way to contain you.
You cannot be stuffed into my suitcase and carried on-board. You cannot be bottled up and placed on the mantel as a keepsake. You cannot be worn as a dangling necklace around my neck. I have to walk away.
I walk away, in the early morning hours of another blissful day, and I promise to remember all of it, all of you, and all of me within you.
The glorious perfection of it all. The miracle of interconnectedness that exists between all things. Our divine love affair.
For some time, I do. I remember all the vivid details and I see you everywhere: in the midnight sky, in the early morning frost, in the howling wind, in every single teardrop. I am incredibly alive and full of sacred knowledge.
Then, as I had feared, I start to forget. The process is gradual - first a sight, then a sound, then a smell - until the entire feeling of you and me, of you encircling me, and of me as an integral part of you, has faded beyond recognition.
You are a dog-eared postcard now. A digital image on my laptop. A magnet on the fridge.
You are a fragment of my past and you no longer make my heart flutter.
But there are those moments - few and fleeting - when I swear I can still taste you. You sneak up unexpectedly - when I’m on the subway, at the tea store, standing at my kitchen sink - and for a split second, I am back there. With you. Within you. We are one.
I thank you.
You, my sun-drenched lover, reached down and around and rocked me to sleep, to life, and to that mystical world between the two where the subconscious mind wanders freely. You, unnameable force of nature, cradled me in the palm of your hand and showed me I was precious.
You, ethereal reminder of all that truly is, evoked within me awe and gratitude for a single speck of sand.
You, love, brought me home.
This week's affirmation: I recognize the flutter in my heart and I feel it fully.