It seems like it takes forever for the sun to reach the horizon, the moments before sunrise as slow as if someone is down there, pulling on the ball of fire, making it stay where it is a few minutes longer. But when it finally rises, it makes an expeditious arc through the sky, blazing through the degrees as if it had been launched from below.
Angry words
September 20, 2008Back then, I kept a journal of angry words. He never appears anywhere there—I knew better than to make mention. I gave everyone around me enough credit to recognize him, even disguised, on the page.
Here’s this about that: even without a single word on the page, I see him there, peering through the words as if I used them to capture every single memory. Even reading about that anger reminds me that, mixed in, there was a bittersweet happiness that could not be denied.
Wedding present
September 18, 2008He bought her a cliff as a wedding present, and walked her along the top of it, holding her hand tightly so she wouldn’t blow away in the wind. He pointed out the one boulder that protruded more than the others, the kelp on the rocks below. He put his hands over her eyes and whispered, “Listen to the waves.”
She looked over the edge, then up at his face. She turned and took his face in both her hands.
“It’s exactly what I have always wanted,” she said.
Shared memories
September 16, 2008I thought I was the only one who still remembers details: the smoky scotch, the way he picked me up over his shoulder in the street while I laughed harder than I had in forever, the last dance before he left to catch his plane.
Imagine my surprise when he passed them back to me like small gifts: a favorite drink, my favorite flower, the song that used to tie us across the miles. “I made curry tonight,” he said, and even years later, it remained as inside a joke as if we had shared it yesterday.
Communication
September 14, 2008“It’s so quiet here,” he said. It annoyed her that he had spoken at all, his voice scattering noise all around what had been a cleanly silent grove.
“You never respond,” he said. “Why can’t you talk to me?”
She stared at the ground, tired of sending empty messages through glances and half-smiles.
Further brightness
September 12, 2008Without sunglasses, the light aches. She replaces the glasses, shielding her eyes before they have a chance to adjust.
She considers what might happen if she left them off, but discounts the consideration, preferring to stay covered. She prefers not to risk any further brightness.
Land meets water
September 10, 2008“Somewhere,” she said, “there is a place where land meets water.”
“It will surprise you when it arrives,” he said.
“No,” she said. “It will surprise me when I arrive.”
100 Proof 