Seeking a sea that heals.

Seeking a sea that heals.

I woke up and he was screaming. He listened to the alarm clock for too long. He gets annoyed when I do not turn it off immediately. I roll over to kiss him and I turn it off. Finally.

We both get ready for the day. It is already 1pm.

New year always starts late, lazy. I had a heavy cloud still hovering over my head. It won’t go away unless it rains.

I go to the bathroom and I take a shower.

The water is so hot and steamy I can feel it almost freezing me. My fingertips burn. My skin is almost red, I guess. I can’t properly see through the steam.

Although we should be having lunch, I make breakfast. The only meal I cannot skip is the first. I have never understood why people eat anything else first thing in the morning.

I poured the oats into the boiling pan. I added milk and cinnamon and just that for now. I do not like too many flavors or I get confused. I stirred and stirred when the fire was at its lowest points. I had no rush and he staid in the room. He does his exercises in the mornings.

I do mine right before I go to sleep. We never agreed who would have to give up whose routine. We never offered.

I got too deep into my thoughts as I crawled out to see a mixture too thick for my taste. I added a couple more milk drops and stirred and stirred and stirred.

I took the darkest banana from the fruit bowl and cut it in thick slices. He always argues with me saying I should cut it thinner as in layers or sheets from the bed we used for covering our naked bodies just a few hours earlier. But I like how he keeps trying and trusts someday I’ll listen.

He is so cranky in the mornings I soon forget how much I like to be with him.

I love silence too much, I think, as he worries about money or time or something.

I eat my bowl alone. I do not like to wait for things to get done. He waits a little further because he knows.

As I clean my bowl under boiling water once more, he emerges from the room and kisses me. I like how his palm presses my back. I like how he tastes of goodness without even trying.

He takes a bite of his bowl and eats it standing up looking at me as I rinse the plates and forks.

I ask him if he is still hungry. I could add nuts or other fruits. He finishes the bowl and says he is fine.

I admire how honest he sounds.

We look out the window at the same time. He read my mind and suggested to go to the beach. Let’s swim, it will prevent us from getting diseases. I wish for that to be true.

I never think twice when he proposes a plan. I said yes and we prepared our bags so we could go out while the day was still warm.

We walked there because the beach is close enough and our patience is vast.

We stepped in the sand not caring if it was getting inside our shoes or not. We took the closest spot to the sea as we could. We undressed—rushing—as if taking our clothes off would stop the cold we felt freeze our skin.

He was first. He immersed first his feet with quick steps and then he launched his whole body within the sea with his arms first lifted to the air to then point the Earth.

I was slower than him. I hesitated with everything cold. I think he did not notice because his head was still covered under the water.

I did not want to get my hair wet. Then I did not care. I like when I change opinions. This means I can love him someday.

When we got out, the air felt warmer than inside the water. The heat of the Sun was more welcoming than before. It doesn’t bother my eyes. I like to see how it prevents me from seeing him clearly.

Let’s go for a walk he said. I said I wanted to get dry before putting my clothes back on. He asked if I wanted a hug. His skin felt colder than mine.