I remember wading in the water. Still and clear, holding me up unto my chest. My skin facing west soaked in the warm, afternoon heat, half of my body in cool delight. My toes curling on white sand. I was on my favorite beach, the place familial as it is to my family, to me as it was the reason for my first surge of flight adventure. To me because it took my father from me before my teenage years yet rewarded me with things my earthly mind and body cannot bear. I've somehow grown up with the island even if I don't go as often as I should to call it home. It is home, still.
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