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Friday, February 24, 2017

February sometime

The surfers 
They all do it 
Stand at the edge with their hands draped over their board or on their hips and they watch 
The waves crash over and over
And over and over 

I wonder 
Are they looking for a pattern 
A voice 
Some sort of established behavior of the maverick waves
Or are they afraid 

Finally they say yes to whatever it is 
they through their board down with resolve 
It takes the skin of the water 
It glides 
They go with it
The white of the waves clean them thoroughly 
And somehow 
Out there
They become alive 
Really 

--- 

We wake early this morning 
Our morning breath birthing out all over the room 
The alarm shreaking
His body rattling next to mine in search of it with half closed eyes

Well, should we go
He says 
His voice full of scabs and cobwebs not yet cleared 
Yesterday he woke me up just as a fullsized bunny was about to be placed in my hands I was so eager and excited and had not even felt it's fur

Throwing our legs over the bedside
Collecting our swim trunks 
Binoculars 
Keys 
We leave 
His board resting against his waste
My hair flopping in the wind like I like 
Unbrushed and salty from yesterday 
He goes about attaching the body of the board to the top of the car
I help him with the strAp like I always do from my side, the metal piece clunking the lid of the vehicle as I lunge it across and climb in 


We arrive at a little coffee shop
Always first 
Before the waves 
We meet someone from traverse city 
We hear the Hiss and Huss of the coffee machine we open windows we take to the beach 


We situate the towels 
Rub sunscreen deep into his back 
Pull his hair into a poneytail
I watch him the entire time carefully sneak peaks at the water 
It is teal this morning and alive with grief and story and caffeine 

And then he stands
Mumbling about the different breaks and where to get in and if they are clean (as if someone went dusting them this morning)

I nod as if I understand. 

He stands up, face lighting with the sun and the saltwater beckoning

This is where I see the surfers stand. 
Right at the edge. 
They all do it. 
Their hands draped over their boards or on their hips
And they watch the waves crash over and over over and over... 

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Thank you so much for taking the time to say a lil sumthin! Im so grateful that you even read my words and I hope they inspire and draw you closer to Jesus!