Rooted, I used to think.

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The Birthday Dance - Friday, Dec. 20, 2019
You and Me - Tuesday, Dec. 17, 2019
Resilience - Friday, Dec. 13, 2019
Anniversary - Thursday, Dec. 12, 2019
Still Happy - Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2019

Thursday, Jun. 27, 2019 @ 11:44 am
Weathering the Storm

The sky is dark with storm clouds and the ocean froths with a chop. I unfurl my kite, carefully stretch it open and place the slender wooden cross brace.

The wind catches the kite, and I let out line as I run along the wet sand to bring it up further into the sky. My uncle gave me this kite for my eighth birthday, and I have carried it around with me over the years as I moved from city to city. I watch it soar up into the sky against the backdrop of the city skyline. Waves lap at my ankles.

Russell walks towards me across the sand.

“Well that made it easy to find you,” he says as he catches me around the waist. I lean into him and we hug and kiss, the kite tugging on the string reel clasped in my hands behind his back. We stand like this for a long time, the kite flapping overhead and us hugging, the clouds threatening rain and gusts of wind carrying empty food containers across the sand like tumbleweeds.

We are kissing, and I forget about the kite for a moment and it pulls off reams of line then stalls and falls dramatically from the sky. I notice and futilely reel in line. The kite crashes into the sand directly in front of another couple. They laugh as I walk shamefully towards them, reeling in the now slack line.

I weight the kite down with my towel, and we wade together into the surf. Nobody else is swimming. Tourists wearing winter coats shout encouraging words our way, not understanding that the water is warmer than it appears. At least, it feels warm to me.

We tread water together offshore, rising up and down with each passing wave. I’m not sure if he would be in the water without me - this is absolutely my thing; I take this as his gift to me. I dive down into the salty darkness. Gulls ride the thermals overhead.

After changing into warm clothes, we huddle together under a fleecy blanket to watch the sunset. Bolts of lightning flash across the western horizon. Large raindrops begin to fall from the sky.

His skin warm and pressed against mine. His arm around my shoulders.

The storm blowing all around us, finding safety together.

This is what love feels like.

Roots | Shoots