Leah Farmer

Personal perspectives on faith, literature, and life.

The Lover…

At about 3:45 AM I woke to find that I was too warm under the heavy down comforter. So I shuffled to the window and opened it to get some air flowing into the room.

I then lay in the bed for the next 30 minutes trying to fall asleep but realizing that the sound of the waves on the private beach just down the hill were calling me.

Rush…roar…rush…roar…come stand in us..rush…roar.

So I climbed down from the high pillow top bed. Slid my shoes on and fast walked down the hill towards the water. Let me just say this…I don’t like walking alone in the dark. And I walked very very fast down this steep hill, over the wire, and slipping my shoes off walked right into the water knee deep.

The tide was out a bit. And I walked until the freezing water was lapping gently against my legs.

I walked until all I could feel was water…and all I could hear were waves…and all I could smell was seaweed and salt…and all I could see was the horizon beginning to take shape in deep dark oranges.

I walked until the Pacific and I were together again. Lovers for so much of my life. Reunited. Joined. Together.

And my mind stilled. Stilled like it does when I do yoga. Stilled like it does when I am able to meditate. Stilled like it does on the 8th hour of a road trip. Stilled like it does when the touch is just right at just the right moment and it can’t be denied as sensual, perfect, and pure.

The water and I..we have an agreement. We have a pact. We made a covenant.

When it calls, I show up. And when I show up, it tells me again who I am.

4:30 watching the sunrise over the water as it numbs my legs with cold. You are The Lover. The one who knows. The one who stills. The ones who touches. And for that I thank you.

5:15 climbing back into bed legs still damp from the waves and heart so full. Grateful for the touch. Grateful for the slow hand of the constant. The Ocean. My Love.

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