Night walk

As a made-up character, I and a stranger helped one another through a rough day. We touched spirits but not hands, and our faces were the whole time hidden. But our love in the moment was whole, raw, and true. It took the shape of a  cloud, a white puffed-out heart hovering picturesque over the ragged Ko’olaus when we broke out from the house.

As night fell, I watched as you struggled to share truth in a form you know. It is not the same as mine, but it effected me in a way. And for that, I am grateful. As I am for all the half-gods I’ve passed over time. We touch hands symbolically before our contact becomes too great. Then, I gather up the bits of truths that are good, and cling them tight in my talons as I fly into the night.

The night outside is star-dusted and we cross through neighbourhoods of houses we do not know. The tide is low and we danced on rocks where crabs hid and softly nipped my toes. Laughter from the fright. I’ve learned to laugh and scream at the same time. One guttural reaction full of the force of life. And in the burning of my throat and belly afterwards, I find release and ease. Melodies pur soft humming songs in the after-glow as we head from the edge of land.

Another beach across the tangle of suburban roads. There we gather at the edge of sharpened lava to stare at the turbulent ocean. We all throw rocks at the ocean. Holding our breaths and waiting for the dark rolling wave to crash. As white spray sparkles across the darkened crags of rocks, it is the perfect moment. Sound bursting from our chests and the shore. One rock had filled my hand, the other was a small collection of three. Each rock was a problem we each needed to release.

I throw mine out and scream hard, letting go. We, group of four, process our struggles together. And the rocks hit water and sink into the tossing ocean under starlight and cloud glow, disappearing for good.

A tradition I learned from a stranger on a screen. Moments before I lost hope.

The winter triangle, glittering red white blue, has risen in the pre-winter sky tonight. Just past the horizon, one point tucked into a cloud. The short edge points our eyes to the rosary in the sky. And I like the collective symbols we gather together. I will take with me, shards of truth, whenever I go. Put them in my back pocket and keep them all for later.

The walk back home is slow, and we meander through the cooling warmth, holding hands like lovers.
We laugh and sigh. I love everything.


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