One summer morning I woke up with a very clear image of what I wanted to paint, plus words I knew I needed to write down. This is what came out:
If love comes in waves, then I’m thankful for the high tide. Love in the morning crashes eagerly to the shore, pulls you in and swallows you whole with magnetic force. Underwater, the world feels different as the water easily tosses you around reminding you that you are weightless no matter how heavy your insides have felt on solid ground. And though you’d like to stay there, your lungs will always have its way.
If love comes in waves, then I’m thankful for the low tide. Love in the afternoon makes you wish for the intensity of the morning, but with the low tide comes wisdom. Because love ebbs and flows, and even the ocean must pull away to wash on a different shore. With only sand between your toes, you realize that you have always been made of water long before the ocean came to know you.
If love comes in waves, then I’m thankful for the moments in between. The few seconds of calm which pace the gentle waves from the roaring ones; these are the moments in which I’d always like to live. Floating on my back, the sky and the sea blur into one and I am certain that love can never be contained. Because if love comes in waves, then I am thankful that no matter where I am or how long it’s been, I will always find my way back to the sea.