When the wind dances with the water, you can move the world across the ocean

I’m fearful of sounding cliche. I’ve ingested enough words from enough people who wrote better than I would ever write ,( if I died and came back around the wheel as a writer.) that I feel anything I have to say has been said better by someone else, a thousand times over.

Now that I’ve gotten that disclaimer out of the way, this:

Sometimes when I look at my husband’s face, it feels in my heart like he is the ocean. Vast and dark and knowable, but difficult and filled with secret movements.

Then I remember that I am the wind,and I move freely over the surface of the deep.


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