“This is nothing you haven’t seen before,” she said, bending down to fill her cupped hands with water. “Look, even the ocean is full of new beginnings.” She opens her palms — empty. “Of course,” you think as you pull up your skirt and wade deeper into the bay. “How is it possible you had never noticed.” The wind picks up tossing your hair in front of your face. It whispers the truth. She stands steady watching you. “What are you going to do, swim or float?” “Neither,” you reply.
Slowly you turn towards the shore and start to run. Letting go of your skirt, it clings to your thighs — a deterrant. The wind, now at your back, pushes you onward towards the shore. “Wait!,” she calls, “Where are you going?” You stop and look back, “In a different direction entirely.” Continuing towards the shore, you hear the sound of the waves gently rolling home. You count them 1,2,3, infinite, perpetually new.
Arriving on land, you sit and look back. She holds your gaze before becoming just another sunlit refraction. You cup your palms and let the incoming wave find you, fill you, until you are left with nothing but what you had at the start.
