The light by the ocean is sublime. There's a slice of each day when the light cuts through the window and brushes the entire room with golden blue, a shade almost indescribable. If you have ever lived at the edge of Earth and Water, you know what I mean.
I dream of being back there. Yellow bamboo floors and shiny silver counter-tops. Light pouring from the ceiling and every window flung open, capturing the sea’s saltiness in each step I take from room to room. There is nothing like that, being there at the gates of land to sea. You morph into a different breed of being; not quite a land creature, your toes always dipping into the lapping love of our liquid planet. Eventually, you can breathe under water.
We always ate fish. Fish with fresh vegetables, gooey and sweet. We drank a mash-up of limes and bubbles and a splash of the hard stuff. You can stay up all night and turn the volume high on life. No worries: the waves pounding outside the windows filter everything. Holds everything. Brings everything back to the Source. We made love with the sounds of our center and knew it was being carried by the waves back to the Mother of all things Hot.
In the mornings we’d wake up with nothing on, a piece of silk draping over a part of us, and sip warm coffee as the sun came up. Sleeping in was never needed; the vital energy of the watery line is strong. The sun’s stretch up is always invigorating. The gull’s song enlivens the heart.
I dream of being back there. The caramel colored walls. The deep soaking tub. The sand at our doorsteps. The sand in our bed. The sand in our hair.
Love always lives at the sea.
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