Backpack stuffed under the seat in front of me. Passport, books, backup hard drive. Sprite Zero sloshes with tray table turbulence. Mind buzzes back and forth between worlds, between lives.
Beyond the rim of window, the sun blazes across the water line, burns up the shore, la orilla, the edge between two worlds. One side smooth and calm, undisturbed, undeterred; one side dry and brittle. The waves lap so softly I can’t even see the lapping. From 30,000 feet, the waves aren’t waves at all, but a shimmering transition from land to sea, death to life, in harmony.
“It is I who plunge into them with my own legs and arms.” It is I who chooses not to plunge.
I thrash and grasp, though the water is still. Is stilled.
I thank the painter God for sun blazing across water and sky. For a sea of cloud puffs. For the dazzlement of my soul in this moment. For the stillness He stirs in me.
My soul is calm as water deep and deeply loved.