Water and Air

 I am slowly waking up next to the man I married 4748 sunrises ago today. But the past is only a compilation of seconds, minutes, hours, and days all strung together into what we call marriage. Marriage is like a soap bubble floating through the air. It is fragile, yet it can change shapes and surrender to air currents. There are moments of joy and sadness, light and darkness, sickness and health, and thirteen years ago, we made the vow to stay together through all of that.

The colors of life

As soon as I snap the photo of the brilliant morning colors from my bed, the clouds thicken. The bright reds, oranges, and golds dissolve into grayness. The ocean and the sky meet in a thin silvery line on the horizon. The line separating water and air, separating shades of gray, separating liquids, and gases. The air molecules have a lot of energy, so they will fill up any space. The air will compress while water will not. But,  water is always present in the air. 

The shades of gray

I close my eyes and surrender to the symphony of morning birds, the distant barking of the village dogs, the crowing of the roosters, the motors of the fishing boats, and the lapping of the waves onto the sandy beaches below. Then my husband hands me my morning coffee, and a slice of banana bread I baked last night. I sink back into the soft pillows. On my next deep exhale, I open my eyes and take the first sip of the dark, hot liquid. A bright thin golden line spreads across the edge of the ocean and begins to push the thick, grey layer of clouds upwards. The sun is rising. Another day is here. Another day with you who are my water and my air. 

You are my water I drink, and the air that I breathe every day