A day at the beach.

You are a day at the beach personified.

I’d wake up while the world is still asleep so I could catch your sunrise. I’d be happy and content to sit in silence as the first of the morning light touches your shores.

At noon when the sun is in a blazing heat, I’d walk the stretch of your white sands even with my skin scorched. I could take the burns if it means spending more time basking in your grandeur.

I’d take a hundred pictures of the sunset that colors your orange skies, but will probably only keep one because one of you is more than enough.

When the moon starts to turn the heavens dark, I’d listen intently to your crashing waves. And before I retire for the night, I’d wish upon every single star to one day spell your name and link it with mine.


Featured photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash

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Certainty and uncertainty.

You asked me how I knew if it is, indeed, love.

Given the short span of time, your skepticism is understandable. I remember answering your question with a vague “I just feel it,” but I know you’re waiting to hear more. Here it is:

I knew it was love when you’re the first person I look for every morning and the last I want to talk to at night.

I knew it was love when I watched you sleep and I know I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.

I knew it was love when we saw the city lights and I thought your eyes bring more radiance than all those sparkles put together.

I knew it was love when waking up next to you on a Sunday morning felt absolutely perfect.

I knew it was love when I cried, not because of anything you said or did, but because I know that what we have is still within the realms of uncertainty.

I knew it is love, not because I see you in my future, but because I want you to be it.


Featured photo by Christopher Sardegna on Unsplash

Foreseen by the tarot.

I don’t really believe in tarots, but out of curiosity, I met with someone for a reading last year. I no longer remember most of what the cards foretold, except the last one: next year will be very, very different.

“How different?” I asked. But our session was coming to a close and Jake, the reader, wouldn’t pick another card. “It could be anything,” he said, and he left the statement hanging in ambiguity.

First half of 2017 came and went. If anything, my year only got duller. Nothing new was happening, or even if there was, I couldn’t classify it as “very, very different.” I eventually chalked the prediction as a sham, not knowing yet that it was about to come true.

She arrived in the middle of July. There were no fanfares, no red carpet entrance that could have given me any hint. I find it ironic how a beginning so utterly ordinary could turn into something completely unexpected. 

It was not the most opportune of times, I admit. I was tied to someone else, and in a different way, so was she. I tried to ignore the fire in her eyes, but it consumed me nonetheless. She was nothing like the ones in my list, and I thought, what if this could be it? 

I made the decision to dive for the free fall. 

I’m still falling.

It was not easy letting go of the comfort of my previous relationship. The reasons to stay always felt heavier, even if it could just be as light as a sponge weighed down by the water of all our years together. But in the end, it was something I had to do.

The tarot was right, after all.


Photo credit:
Photo by Brian Gonzalez on Unsplash