Catch the Sun

by Jennifer Hartmann

The human race is on a downward spiral, and I’ll be damned if I contribute to the charade with a pitchfork mentality. If we’re all heading for the same cliff edge, I’d rather take the scenic route.

Three Reasons You Should Always Swim to the Surface 1. Swimming is good exercise. It’s the reason my arms look so good. (Don’t deny it. I know you like my arms.) 2. The sun is above the surface. The sun suits you. 3. I’d miss you.

It’s an orange crayon sticking out of a pot of dirt. I blink a thousand times before my eyes lift to his. “What is this?” “One day, maybe, it’ll grow into a carrot. I’m hopeful.” My mouth snaps closed. My chest squeezes. I can’t stop

“What if I slept naked?” “Unlikely. You’re way too guarded.” He paces the room, perusing the poster-lined walls and bookshelves stuffed with novels and trinkets. “However, I do sleep naked if you were curious. I’ll keep my window unlocked.”

Nobody ever wants to know about the before. Nobody cares. They only want to know about the after…about the monster, not the man. Monsters are interesting. Men are ordinary.

“Where do you learn these things?” She shrugs. “Never minimize the power of being a loner and a nerd.”

She drifts away, her head lolling onto my shoulder as the night presses on and the hours tick by. The only thing that moves is my heart. My muscles are stiff and tight, but my heartstrings are pliable, the beats skipping and alive. The sensation is as rare as her smile.

I don’t want to burst into tears. I don’t want to collapse. Crying is exhausting and collapsing will skin my knees and make me bleed. I’m just so sick of hurting. I’ve been collecting fresh wounds as often as I collect new books.

Forgiveness without love is one thing. But love without forgiveness? That’s like a tree without roots; it can’t stand for long. It can never truly live.

Water droplets sparkle under the stage lights as the singer bends over and sings like the lyrics are so much more than words. In turn, I hold on to Max like he is so much more than a pair of sturdy shoulders. He feels like a tether, a lifeline. An escape. We are two sticks tossed over a bridge, swimming side by side, floating away from it all.

live every day like it’s your last. Live every day like it’s your first. Lasts are tragic. Firsts are exciting and full of celebration. Look at every sunrise like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen colors like that before. Listen to your favorite song like you’ve never heard such a precious melody. If you make every day a celebration, you’ll never get bored in your own story.”

covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,’” I tell him, meeting his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, it emphasizes that the relationships we choose can be stronger than our family ties. It highlights the value of bonds formed by choice over those we were born into.”

The human mind is a reckless beast. It clings to memories and bonds, no matter how much logic tells us otherwise. Trying to separate love from resentment, especially for family, is like attempting to untangle intertwined threads. One always follows the other.

“Your eyes,” I murmur, cupping his cheek with one hand. “They make me feel seen.”

“Your smile makes me feel cherished.” Then I snuggle closer to him and finish, “And your arms make me feel safe.”

“I always knew you had a thing for my arms.”

“Ella,” she whispers, propping two fingers underneath my chin and lifting my head. “Every human being has a right to be selfish when it comes to grief. I abandoned you, too, in the wake of what happened with your brother.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “I sacrificed precious time with you, so obsessed with overturning the case, when I still had a child here who needed me more than ever,” she tells me brokenly. “I kept you in the dark. I was trying to protect you, trying to save you from another crushing disappointment if it didn’t work out. So, no, Ella…you don’t

need to apologize for taking time to heal, no matter the cost. I’ll always be your safe place to land when there’s nowhere else to go.” She strokes my hair back and shushes my tears. “I promise.”

Once there’s an end, you can never go back to the beginning, and that feels permanent. People latch on to the finality of that and overlook the deeper meaning, the hope that resides inside. No, you can’t go back to the beginning… But you can always create a new one. You can take those ruptured pieces lying at your feet and glue them back together, knowing you’ll never shape them into what they once were, but believing you can create something even better. That’s where healing lies. That’s where overcoming happens.

“You’re right because there is no love and war. Love is war. You fight until you win, or you fight until you lose. Imagine the victory after all that pain and struggle, after all those battle wounds.” I swallow, pressing our foreheads together, noses touching. “War was never meant for peacemakers. There is no place for white flags and soft hearts. It’s loud, feral, and violent. Love is a killer, but not everyone dies bloody. Some stand tall in the end.” I squeeze her cheeks between my hands and beg, “Let that be you, Ella. Let that be us.”