Summer of Salt

by Katrina Leno

She was tied to the water, my sister. Moods like tides, temper like a hungry shark.

She was born for oceanside bonfires, long gauzy dresses and uncombed hair, the scent of salt like a blanket you

can’t peel off your skin. She was born for the smell of water, for the way it sank into your bones, stained your skin, dyed your blood a deep, salty blue.

“I think a person can be a home, sometimes, just as much as a place or a house can.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to his empty tomb. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to all the women who had come before me. And then I left them alone and promised I’d return one day. The dead loved promises; the living loved promising.

On the island of By-the-Sea you could always smell two things: salt and magic.