At Sea

This is how to remember her. She packed up all her belongings and discarded all of her writing. Her house was left immaculately clean. Purposeful for discovery. The earlier state was of visiting stacks of books and magazines, heaps of clothing, food remains. She held onto everything. Her toes gliding leave trails across the floor when she danced. Green shift dresses for nights in.  This is how to find her. 

It was in earlier discussions on the phone that we agreed not to leave ourselves behind. Recalling the tale of  The Little Mermaid and how she exchanged her voice for legs to roam the land, I always tried to understand why she decided to take flight. She does not find freedom overground and in the end she does not find love. Her body slow and awkward to catch up, she was always late. No voice to talk about who she was and who she thought she hoped she would become. Crushed under the rocks on the beach, she joins her sister as seafoam. Before the earth took on a solid form we were formless bodies comprised of heat, invisible, the substance air our appointed dwelling. Now we live inside. 

There comes a point where the body moves away from the emotional and physical imprints imposed on it through memory loops. Maybe she was searching for freedom of weightlessness, the freedom from gravity, freedom from identity, freedom from memory towards the eventual release from the boundaries that define the body. This body is no longer a physical bearer of memories and histories. If you could now see her as she truly is.