My hair is wet and dripping as I type. I feel where the water is collecting breeze-chilled in the small of my back. The time is half-past bittersweet. The day ends and it begins. I am exhausted, but refreshed, and optimistic for revival. The temperature is a recovery after a defeat. The fog is lifting, and forming shapes overhead. I am wind-battered, but today’s air is crisp, restoring: a call to focus on what is in motion.
Today is a pause in the middle of a chaotic series of actions to be summarized by what comes next; it is a horizontal pause with eyes aligned to eyes far outweighing other aspects of an otherwise disordered day. To listen in on this room would be to hear voices and laughter replaced with silence and afterthoughts replaced by voices and laughter and repeated all again.
In the voices: just some chatter. In the laughter: not a care. In the silence: glances upward, thinking, and a smile for a positive conclusion. In response: an eye squint, questioning, but a smile in agreement.
Life is filled with unfortunate occurrences and futures just barely missed; it is a series of tiny tragedies stacked haphazardly one over the next. When something lines up, when two plans entwine, when your eyes meet mine, we call it fate, possibly out of confusion, but maybe out of much more.