Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive- RSS
Notes - Email - Diaryland

Autumn - Thursday, Sept. 17, 2020
I am loved. - Tuesday, Sept. 15, 2020
The Moths - Friday, Sept. 11, 2020
The Chief - Tuesday, Sept. 01, 2020
Shelter - Monday, Aug. 24, 2020

Saturday, Aug. 22, 2020 @ 12:06 pm
Sunset Swimming

The room is still dim, the sun not yet risen. Russell kisses my face, and I wake from a restless sleep. His face is soft and cool, freshly shaved.

“Goodbye, my love.”

He flies a thousand miles across the country into the prairies. Sends me photos of storm clouds and lightning and songbirds.

One evening, I walk out into the forest. I walk slowly under the tall, thick trees. Rain fell earlier, and the forest is humid and all of the foliage shines with moisture. The ferns and the cedars and the ocean air. My heart.

I emerge from the forest to an orange and pink sunset shooting up under the stratus clouds across the sky. The mountains are shrouded in a thick, swirling, white mist. The tide is high, a spring tide, just past the new moon. The water boils up across sand that hasn’t been smoothed over in weeks.

I walk down to the edge of the ocean. The water reflects a kaleidoscope of orange, pink, and navy blue. The sea surges at my feet. I hadn’t planned to swim, but I suddenly need this. Fervently, I need to be in the ocean.

I strip off my shorts and t-shirt, lay them in a pile on the sand. I know a photographer is above me on the hill, shooting the moody sunset.

I wade into the water and dive into the sixteen-degree surf. An undertow tugs at my feet. The cold water tightens around my chest. The salt water on my tongue.

I dive down over and over. Tread water and watch the sun dip behind the mountains. Stand in the shallows, feeling the cool water move against my thighs.

I emerge from the sea and water streams from my body. I am a seal. I am a raven.

I walk home in the dark, my skin tight, my hair dripping down my back, and my heart strongly pumping heat and energy and love.

Don’t forget who you are. Don’t abandon yourself.

Love him, by all means. And love him well. But don’t forget to love yourself.

Roots | Shoots