Three days by the sea and I am emptied.

No more is there me.

Just a nameless mass of melted muscle and darkening skin.

Just a tiny dot on the coast held in position by the weight of wind.

Just me being held by the sea.

It’s the sea who calls to me.

First few steps are ice but I don’t mind the pain.

With strong current, the sea pulls me into its endless space.

Just me being held by the sea.

I am floating away and there is nothing to stop me.

No one to ask anything of me.

No sharp edges or unrelenting disease.

Just me being held by the sea.

“Mom, I am hungry!”

An invisible cord pulls me backward too quickly.

I land hard in a chair.

“Mom!” I blink salty air.

A face comes into focus, outlined in sky.

I am the center of two little eyes.

I am mom. 

I fumble around until my fingers land

On a special ordered sandwich of mustard and ham.

More faces suddenly around me like seagulls swooping down on a discarded crumb.

“I must have fallen asleep.” But nobody pays attention.

Brilliant whitecaps push in to set me free.

Soon the moon will pull the sea to me.

Then pull me and my chair to the sea.

And I’ll ride the tide in my chair out to sea.

Just me being held by the sea.