when pocketbrit and i meet by the sea, sitting fireside features hugely in our scenarios, so this really made me think of her tonight. and it is fitting, too, because christmas sucks pretty hard for both of us, and we both had varying combinations of work and family obligations and that same universal gd pressure to pretend and be happy, when really, i just wanted to crawl under the covers and awaken in mid-january.
so, when we head to the sea together, like if we’re upset, or having trouble sleeping, or are particularly sad, or just because we feel closer there, one of us inevitably sends the other a message, setting the stage, if you will. and, nearly always, there is a fire. sometimes it burns brightly, crackling, spitting sparks, blazing away as we watch. but most times, our fires are burning low and hot, with the light of its glowing embers flickering on the walls, permeating the cold and wind and chill of the salty air. it burns as we snuggle in and try to dispel the loneliness and sadness, as we try to find peace and comfort and sleep.
tonight, at the hearth in my head, there is just that kind of fire, deeply warm, gentle, soothing, as i reach for her hand to squeeze it a couple times, wishing us both the strength to get through tomorrow. that we may last through the pretending and pressure and expectations. we can do it. it won’t be easy, mind you, but i know we can. and when it’s hard, there’s always the sea, in its tumult and saltiness, its ebbing and flowing, dependable in its constancy.