I can’t make things easier just by wishing it were so. I can only stand in the path that is my life. It doesn’t help to think it was harder back there. Or to know it’s easier than so many other places that people stand. This ache is my ache. The pulling apart of the way it has been, to stand here on the shore and know it’s the deeper water that she seeks. Ah, I am shore, my beach rocky, the perfect place to launch. I give up all my boats and paddles. Think about buying better binoculars. Lather on the sunscreen and practice waiting. Shit, that’s not good enough. I get busy doing, with no idea of what I want to do. Right now it’s enough to keep on making it up, hoping the arrival will surprise me. I’ll wear these rocks into pebbles, into sand. A fine pink sand that lures the weary sailor to my shore. While knowing it isn’t always about the sailor. It can’t be anymore. I am a rocky shore, becoming something new.