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By Violet Date: 2004 Jun 28 Comment on this Work [[2004.06.28.12.55.31512]] |
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i'm back. my heart has ached a good long time to see this place again. i stretch my legs and feel the warm sand under my feet. i inch into the water slowly, the shock of cold makes its way to my bones. i dip under a wave, and rise gasping for breath. i feel my heart beat, and my skin rise with millions of bumps. i am alive. i am alone. i consider asking you to move here. i picture us in a gorgeous new england home, a stone's throw from the shore. but then i picture you like a fish out of water. this is my place, not yours. you would never really be at home, never love it like i do. this scene doesn't change. it's the same crowd on the beach as when i was an infant. there are umbrellas, fat women in skirted bathing suits. floridian men with gold chains and large guts are here for the summer. small children run and throw sand and chase seagulls. teenage girls walk the length of the beach in their tiny bikinis, trying to draw the attention of the lifeguards. i used to do that. young mothers are smearing sunblock on their babies faces. i want to do that. in the shower, i sit down and let the water pour over my head, down my back. it weighs me down, and slaps my sunburned skin. i study the white strip of flesh under my wedding ring. i dream about a three story house by the beach and of never being far from my memories. i realize that part of what makes it special to me, is the longing. i know, deep down, that i belong wherever you are. and you do not belong here. your heart isn't here. we will create a family together. and maybe we can bring our children here in the summers. i can smear sunblock on their faces, and you can teach them to fly a kite. they will have their own summer memories. our children will grow, and they'll have your eyes, and my longing. |