I cannot swim. The irony is not lost on me that I love the ocean. The sound of the waves. It gives me a break from thinking of the 52 years that proceeded me.
The ocean gives me the gift of washing so many seashells on the beach with holes in them. I’ve always wanted to be that person that makes jewelry from shells. I want to try this time. So many shells with the top burrowed probably from land crabs. The perfect condition to make a necklace. Trying to not break the most fragile ones. They are always the most beautiful. Especially the Shimmery silver. Shells. When the sun hits the shell just right it shows all the shades of silver you can imagine.
Staring at today’s waves thoughts creep in my brain. Where should I begin my life over again? A place within one block of the ocean sounds right.
I let my beloved husband into my darkness last night. Listening to the waves on the rented balcony I am sobbing to him.
“No one ever listens to me. My whole entire life I told people how I felt and they respond the way you do tonight. ‘
“Oh Adriana you come across so strong. So confident. So sure of yourself. It’s hard for me and others to know when you are in pain.”
I thought about what my husband said. My answer to him was simple, “Bill, I’m always in pain. I always feel alone. I need you to be curious about that.”
It took me drinking 3/4 of am ice cold bottle of Bleur Mur French rosé to say that to Bill. He responded with grace and unconditional love. Wanted to know when the pain started.
“Age 8. Maybe 10?”
I wasn’t ready to for that conversation yet. It was nice to know that Bill tried asking. He quietly and thoughtfully told me he wanted to share my pain. Maybe even take some of it away and experience my feelings for himself. To lighten my load.
I am ready for the day I start the conversation with, “My love I started to feel that pain around age 8…”