Friday, September 16, 2011

we grew up in water ~ written July 24, 2011

We grew up in water. Like crayfish, scratchy-clawing our way over and around rocks, what we did and why we did it as elusive as it was intuitive. Beat by the summer sun, we dunked under water to soak, sink, rejuvenate.
As evening fell, we would shiver-shrug our way up the beach, trailing sticks, riverbed pebbles dropping from wrinkly palms, in search of someone to scoop us up in itchy blankets and then, thrown in the back of the station wagon, we’d push-crawl over each other in a desperate attempt for supremacy.
And space.
Finally curling and flopping in whispery, algae-damp piles of tired on the seats, the floors.
We headed home.

Today, I wrote just to get these images and stories out. I wrote about two of my favourite things, water and sun, and then I had a deja vu moment...had I written this before? As it turns out, I had. Well, almost.
Fall 2003
I remember the grit between my toes, in my ears
on my hot dog
and the sun’s touch on my freckled cheeks
as you showed me where to look
for sand dollars

I remember the taste of salt
water on my tongue
the way it stung my eyes and how I loved
it regardless
the way I loved you

There was the day that we
with our small, grubby hands
worked for hours sculpting
a masterpiece that in one crashing moment
dissolved into the sea

I remember the allure of the froth-blue waves
as they dragged us deep
into their midst
leaving us gasping, our laughter turning
to salty hiccups

I remember the day that you left
how everyone brought mom casseroles
and how I was so mad
knowing you had gone
without me

Today the feel of my sun-toasted legs
reminds me
of the glimmering heat of past summers together
just two kids splashing about
eating purple snow-cones

Today I place a sand dollar in my palm
surprised how small it now seems
and I trace my finger along the star
soaking up summer
for the both of us

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