Altair’s Narrative: Every New World Begins With the Sea

It’s a balmy blue Sunday, and it’s one of those days that completely blows my notion of perfection into pieces. The saltwater forest surrounds me like a sleepy blanket, yet it is made of the purest form of energy. The swell rises high enough to stoke my splashing kinesis, yet its ebb gives way to the relaxation of midday, as I lay belly down on my board and watch the nose bob up and down with the seas’s murmuring. Except that’s not all I see.

In my past life, I would have reckoned this day as Ideal, amongst my various experiences with Ideal–but today the sun glances brightly and ripples the water into a new pattern. It is a new day. And she has grasped the visual axis, with her hands clinging to the edges of the board, resting her chin on the very nose as the water rises to her shoulders. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a wet bun, wayward strings tickle at her cheekbones. Her smile matches the midnight shine in her eyes. Every word she speaks is creating another patch of space for the new world I’m finding myself in.

I had taught her how to catch waves, and now, returned to the water, she watches me hunt my own. She lets go and ducks underwater when I begin to paddle, pulling at the water’s surface. With the sudden push of momentum, I swing myself to stand, and I am in the glide. The seaglass face is disrupted into a sparkling foam, charging my veins electric. Soon plunged into a bank of waves, the world darkens to bring me back to reality, and I come up for air. This is the good kind of fire I’m breathing in. When I paddle back to her, she takes hold of the board again. Our conversation resumes from where we left off. And when I realize nothing could be better, I notice that this is my universe being baptized.

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