Out of the Blue

The ocean that he was was deeper than I expected. You run in expecting to feel a rush of crisp blue water as you notice sand float up and brush against your feet. I took one glance at a shallow, transparent shore line. I could see the shells and the small grains of sand floating right beneath the surface. So I took my summer dress into my hands and dipped my toe in. But I felt it automatically, the frigid cold, he was so much colder than he had been in the past.

When he was younger, the water made your skin stand up at first, but would quickly warm up in the heat of the late July afternoon. The soft sand on the bottom provided a great place to stand as you found refuge from the world and the harsh summer heat.

But now one must tip-toe past broken glass scattered like shells along the shore, carefully avoiding paranoid crabs ready to snap at any moment. Then one must muster up the courage to walk into freezing waters, and urge themselves to hike up their dress and continue forward, hoping that the ocean will soon feel like it did years ago.

But it doesn't. The water freezes over, slowly at first, but suddenly your stuck beneath a thick sheet of ice and you can do nothing but fight against the frozen water or suffocate, surrounded by something you once loved.

I know I told you that you were an ocean I would discover even if it meant I would drown, but not like this, not anymore. You smash your dark blue beer bottles on the front porch in the middle of the night. You stand over me with your pocket knife and snap at me for dancing to all the foolish summer songs you have heard too often. Sure, people do change, but not this suddenly, not so out of the blue. You've frozen over to protect yourself from something, but neither you or I can stand the cold for very long, and one day we will have to either break free of this ice or drown.