She stood at the edge of beach, where the salt water mixes with the sand, and she looked up at the Moon and Milky Way. Sometimes, she feels that Milky Way inside her chest; making her as endless as the ocean and the sky in front of her.
The water feels like bath water. She knows she won’t be able to resist going in much longer, even if she is clothed. She wants to feel part of it all. She doesn’t want to feel separate; she isn’t separate. Walking into the water, it rises from ankles, to knees, to shorts, to chest. And then she lets herself fall, until she is submerged. She is underneath now, where the silence and warmth feels primal and soothing. But eventually she rises above, tasting the salt on her lips, smiling, and laughing. She looks at the half moon above her, raised and ruling the water she is worshiping, and she feels invincible.
She is as happy as a child in a warm bath before bed time. Only she isn’t a child anymore, and so somehow, the smile and laugh, which is as sincere as if she were, is that much more valuable and precious. She suddenly realizes this moment is a rarity and she quiets her laugh, relaxes her smile, breathes deep, and traps the memory and feeling inside her with all the others. I’ll never let this one go she thinks. She turns and sees the people she loves standing behind her at the beach. She is so full right now. Suddenly she begins to feel that Milky Way inside her making its way back into the sky, where it belongs. Now, she is not separate.
