Watching the clouds from above them almost feels like watching the ocean waves roll in. Like you could balance on the wing, arms out and eyes so open and you could dip your toe into the soft. Like you could swirl it around slowly and turn it to spun.
I wish I could get in. Sink down to my shoulders and feel the breath dense in my lungs and float. Let my fingers go. There would be nothing to grasp for, anyway.
I am looking at the lights below me like bioluminescence and it is just the same. Sparkles created by creatures I am not fated to understand, but will forever see as beautiful and confused and illuminating their own paths, sometimes interrupted by the likes of messy me, waving my arms in an attempt to float. To stay at my shoulders. To stay where it is not so hard to breathe.
I just left my soul mates. I just boarded a plane without those hearts that beat the same way mine does. I watched for as long as I could until everything looked like sky and my eyes became too tired to strain.
Oh, Maho. Filling hearts to break them.
I have always felt sad to leave these people. I am famously terrible at goodbyes. I just can't handle the question of when. I can't handle that these people are not in my every day. That I am not in theirs. It is a grave injustice and it is not one I have ever been able to accept or let go of.
And how lucky we are to be so sad. Before you can feel emptier, you have to have known what full was.
Full is a blue cup. Full is sandy speakers and a yellow floatie. Full is a family chosen for you by the stars and by the boardwalks.
But full is this, too. This feeling of being so in love with a cluster of souls that the inevitable distance between you is almost physically painful. How lucky we are that we know the true capacity a person has just to love.
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