"I think of you every time I look at ocean," he confessed. His words gave me wings. In my mind I'm hovering over the coastline, the sunset transforming water into liquid gold -- pink, yellow orange. I knew what the ocean meant to him. A veteran surfer who lived and breathed the salt water life. He looked at me- tan skin, bare shoulders, neck begging for kisses in the summer glow- a privilege only granted to the sun. My hair lifted into the evening breeze, ends dipped in blond. The way he looked at the ocean was as if he believed he belonged to the waves more than he belonged to the world. The same way he looked at me.
There's something about a merman that can put your heart into a trance. Time freezes, like the moment a barreling wave swallows you up. There you are on the bottom of the ocean floor, tossed around in a constant flow of chaos. Calmly, you let the moment take you until it spits you out onto dry land, where time begins again.
Some relationships have a lifespan shorter than the longest wave. Like a rising swell it rolls in unexpected then crashes into the breaking shore where it folds back into the sea.
Relationships aren’t easy. They take time and perseverance, like learning how to surf. You have some bad days and you learn to deal with frustration. You have some great days and you learn to enjoy the moment. You learn to fight for each other, not with.
I want to be the kind of girl that approaches relationships unhindered by fear of rejection and failure. I want to be humbled constantly like the waves humble me. I hope to be the kind of girl who's noticed not just because of my figure, but because of my faithfulness in friendship. When I look at the man who sees me for who I am, I'll know he is my ocean, he's where I belong.