In the days and weeks since my father’s death, I go to the water to smell the salt air and taste the salt water when my own tears won’t fall.
I go to the water for solace and guidance as cancer ravages my sister’s body in the heavy wake of my father’s death.
I go to the water for its cold and exuberant embrace when no hugs of comfort are advisable among friends in this unrelenting pandemic.
I go to the water because my friends will be there–socially distant yet, smiling and laughing.
I go to the water to remember the beauty of each new morning,
to feel my body glide through the shiny water,
to feel my breath move into my lungs and slip out of my lungs with ease and energy while miles away a cancer spreads and creeps into my sister’s lungs.
I go to the water to remember to breathe, to remember my strength, to marvel at each gifted day.
I go to the water to talk to my father, lowercase.
I go to the water because it connects me to life, to death.
I go to the water and I go home.
Copyright 2020 Cheryl Hatch All Rights Reserved
redbootsblog 