Rooted, I used to think.

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Penny Lane - Friday, May. 22, 2020
Climbing, Again - Monday, May. 18, 2020
Talking Openly - Friday, May. 15, 2020
Wreck Beach - Tuesday, May. 12, 2020
One Year - Sunday, May. 10, 2020

Thursday, May. 07, 2020 @ 10:27 am
Asking Questions

We walk out through the forest to the beach. I choose my favourite paths, the soft trails that pass under the tallest trees and through a lush understory of salal. I stop at a patch of false lily-of-the-valley, the glossy heart-shaped leaves massed together and quivering in the ocean breeze. I run my hand across the leaves and breathe in the forest. The tall straight trees and the delicate hearts below. This is me.

We walk out of the forest and sit together on the sand and lean back against a log. A strong wind pushes clean sea air against my face, and waves break successively on the shore. The sun hangs low in the sky, directly in front of us, and there are no clouds in the sky. The sunset show is about to begin.

There is a lapse in conversation. We both look out towards the sea and the mountains.

“I have a question for you.” I wasn’t planning to ask this tonight, but the moment felt right.

“Oh?” he replies.

“I came across a photo of you wearing a wedding ring.”

“No. What? Where was this photo?”

“Yes. I saw a photo of you and there was a ring on your wedding finger.”

Pause. “OH! God no. That wasn’t a wedding ring. I got that ring in Sri Lanka. It was cheap. There was an onyx on it. It didn’t look like a wedding ring.”

“Lots of people have unconventional wedding rings. You were wearing it on your wedding finger. Why?”

“Oh, I guess it was sort of a joke.”

“How is being married a joke?”

“Oh, perhaps ‘joke’ is the wrong word. I mean, I was wearing it to show that I was taken, that I was unavailable. I wore it for maybe a year. That was like ten years ago? I don’t even know where the ring is anymore.”

“So you were never married?”

“God no.”

A moment of thoughtful silence. And then he continues.

“The question that you asked me yesterday, the question of what one thing I would change about you? I never asked that back to you. What would you change about me?”

“I’d thought initially that it would be your age, to make you younger so that I would get more time with you, but then you wouldn’t be who you are now, so my real answer is the same as yours: nothing.”

“Did you know that I’m going to live to be 155?” he says and kisses my cheek. “You are simply the sweetest.”

Roots | Shoots