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My life is like the ocean. Sometimes, I’m at the top, floating on my back, the sun on my face. Happy, warm. Whole. Other times, I’m in the deepest, dark blue depths, so cold I can’t remember what the sun feels like anymore. I'm numb.
But I’m already headed there. I feel it in my bones, the creeping, exhausting dark blue lapping at my hips.
”Until I’m compost, food for the worms, little star.”
“Is it okay if I lay there with you?” he asks. My brow furrows, and I shake my head gently, not in a no, but because it makes no sense. “What?” “The days you can’t leave bed. Can I lay in it with you?”
But what’s the point of swimming to the surface if you’re not going to fight to see the sun?”
“Because I know you’ll keep my head above water. You’ll build me a boat if I need it.”
If the waters start to rise, I’ll be your lifeboat. And if you need to float in them for a little while, I’ll be there holding your hand.”
“I won’t ever let you go. I’ll loosen my grip so you can breathe, so you can chase your dreams, but Stella, I’m never letting you go again. I’m honored I get forever to see how bright you burn.”
