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“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 blonde. The way he looked at the ocean was as if he believed he belonged to the waves more than he belonged to the world. It was 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 to where time begins again.
Some relationships have a lifespan shorter than the longest wave. Like a rising swell, it rolls in unexpectedly then crashes into the breaking shore before folding back into the ocean.
But relationships aren’t easy. They take time and perseverance, just 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. But in the end, progress is determined by your level of commitment, passion, and love.
I want to be the kind of surfer that approaches relationships unhindered by fear of rejection and failure. I want to be a better friend and learn to value each opportunity to love someone. I want to be humbled constantly like the waves humble me and be reminded that I’m not perfect, but I am strong. I hope to be the kind of surfer that is noticed not by my figure, but by my genuine heart, free spirit and faith in friendship.
The right merman will come along. Something about him will be distinct and when I look at him I’ll know: he is my ocean, he’s where I belong.
