The thermometer

at the beach said 92 degrees today, but there was a strong ocean breeze that cooled it off nicely and sent unsuspecting sunbathers chasing after their umbrellas. It looked like there was a storm on the horizon, there was a powerful undertow, a lot of seaweed, and the water was lower and choppier than it has been in the past. Something in me says all this could be explained by a low pressure system sitting off the coast, but I could just be making that up.

Even with all that, the water was still warm and felt great around my body. Down here it seems like all of the elements are personified. The water is strong and smooth and it holds my hand while I tell it about my day. As I let thoughts poor out of my body, that undertow drags them all away and leaves me drained, sitting empty on the sand and talking about sea shells. Even the air is so hot, moist, and heavy that it comes alive. It puts its arms around me, surrounds me, and walks me home at night, then curls up around me in bed and whispers secrets while I fall asleep. It fills the gaps in my space and my mind where you are missing and tells me everything will be okay. You knocked the wind right out of me the first time we touched, but now that wind has come back to me, is filling up my lungs and teaching me how to be whole again.