Stability

Smokey clouds gathered a few miles away with sparks of light, a torrential downpour yearning. Reminiscent of only a year ago, the storms that were constant. The bite of wind and icy droplets piercing cheeks too warm from mirrored rage. I close my eyes and recall the calm that came after making a choice. I need a divorce. The words whisper before disappearing back into a memory. I sat outside, sunglasses over my pained face, saying the words that had been itching my tongue for months. I said it, and it was done. I was praised by my co-workers and a knee touched mine, bouncing off each other for a moment. I think about the smell of the sea. A cool, damp, salty taste in the air, seagulls chirping happily over scraps and the constant churn of the waves, crushing sound barriers, lulling my brain to give into the white noise. I breathe in and watch myself, swinging legs, propelling myself forward, traveling speedy on my orange beach cruiser. Allowing the wind to whip through my untucked hair. Parking my bike and feeling light, finishing up on the phone, making a scrunch on my face that is indistinguishable. The water falls in pools, reflecting the muggy sunbeams, sparkling and creating mist. The damp air is hot but welcoming. Tiny mushrooms delicately appearing through the moss. I don't see your face in that memory. I don't see them in any of these. I was too shy and turned away, afraid of what you may find or assume hidden. We talked on the phone for a lot of your advice. We still do. Or I lay my head on your chest, unable to show you the pain that I am damming behind my eyes. When I think of that feeling of peace, the one where I began to let go, I don't see your amber eyes, kind and bright. I don't see your long eyelashes, barely visible unless you catch them in the light. I keep you out of it, mostly. When I breath in the sea, when I watch the water falling in trickles down wet stone, your back turned to look down the stream, when I remember your knee against mine, brushing me on purpose. Subtly telling me, you were there. Solid but light. I remember your deep words in base, vibrating the air, setting stone where I needed. You simply pointed to the door, in your own way. Never stepping in front of me, never pushing. Just a warm, soothing bath, calm and comforting, subtly present. I can feel you behind me, though you are like a cat, quiet and slow, looking for a spot to be noticed. I turn away, searching for a way out. Any clear exit that won't seem abnormal. Tears well up, hot and large but, I suck them back down, into the depths, forming the sea that I wait to wash over me. Instead, a storm has begun. You know my emotions are scattered but cannot tell why. I am open to anyone who gives me a chance to speak, however, you give me space. You let me walk away and put up blinders, patiently waiting until I take down my barrier. I carry my baggage everywhere I go, painfully aware of the weight it bares, unable to ignore some of it at times. You walk around it, as if it's not an obstacle at all, allowing me to see you sway towards me and forget it's there. Its an illusion, something that fades away to a mist in the breeze, vibrating through the air to dust, forgotten until it's there again. I find myself mirroring your movements, embarrassed that I cannot hide how I feel, so I get up and walk away smoothly. The storm that I choke down in a one minute trip to the bathroom, hoping no one else is there to hear my sobbing. Forearms on my thighs, lavender panties at my knees. I let out one gasp as water forms behind my closed eyes. I can do this. I can get through this. I think of the escape I made earlier, the one I was forced to wall up when the door was locked. I stop myself and breathe, letting the distraction of a trash bag hanging on the edge of a bin take me out of the storm. Trash filling up slowly, fixing it by picking out the soggy flower stems and roll. Placing them inside the new bag, lining the can next to the porcelain sink. I fixed something. I felt the quiet. I check my teeth. I am surprised about how I look. Who are you? Truly? An image reflected that I do not recognize. This is a beautiful woman, with full soft lips, light freckles spotting her cheeks. The blue ring around her eyes are deep and round, sapphire enclosing aquamarine. Pupils bright but soft, she looks kind and open. Sexy but sweet. It takes me a moment to remember it is me I am looking at. Cool water rinses the stems off my palm and gathers around a blister. I am real. I am here. The storm rolls away, waiting for another time to bolt lightning. I got through that period. I am slowly coming back to myself. Letting the sea be behind my smile, no longer trapped behind clenched teeth. Willing to stand and wait, knowing the pain but not interfering, allowing my past to slowly fade with time, a constant, stable base. The memories reminding me that you can be my peace without attaching yourself to the grief or the healing. A consistent step away from it all but never truly leaving my side, observing when you can brush your arm against mine, purring with a base tone. Patiently waiting for your moment.