Shorts! Shorts in March, my darling!
The lake rolled to the shore all day without ceasing. I closed my eyes against the sun and thought of Hawaii, of diving into those turquoise waves.
I felt the ache in myself all day, or most of it. The sun couldn’t help, or rather, it was helping because the warmth was melting me and all the old, cold corners, just like it’s melting the ice on the rocks, the snow under the trees in the forest.
It all runs downhill, it all returns to the sea, to the whole, to the source: waking up and grieving feel like the same thing.
I wore shorts all day, and went barefoot or in cracking rubber boots. I fell asleep in a pool of light. I let the coming spring touch me: here, here, here, every bit of bare skin. No other offerings are needed than to– like a flower– open and turn.