The Sea and the Sadness of Things

I woke this morning to crashing waves and gulls cawing overhead. My first thoughts were "Where are you? Will you join me by the sea?"

There are times, dear love, that I wish I could reach down through your pores, past muscles tight from strain, between aching joints and heavy bones. I wish that my fingers could peel back layer upon layer of you until I set hands upon the snarled corners of your spirit. These edges of you have been clutched by other forces, then twisted, like little Indian burns. I wish that I could squeeze into these knots and ease them apart, set right the furrows of your brow, and relax the muscles near your eyes.

Not everything in this life is beautiful. Always knocking at our door is the mono no aware, the sadness of things, the slow and bitter death of cherry blossoms and ourselves. Yet, I would not ask for less than this, would not ask the leaves to stop falling, or our own ailments to stop crashing into us like so many waves.

My love, the sea is calling. Come let the waves tickle your toes and ease your troubled bones.