“The water feels like it’s hugging me,” I said. She nodded with a smile.

The salty water filled my ears and my eyes. I looked up as I floated and saw a clear dark sky, filled with stars. There was an ever longing sense of belonging there, when I floated, holding her soft hands.

When you let go of that weight, there’s an invisible push, similar to the force that tries to pull you in when you’re standing just on the shore.

And then there’s a hand underneath you. As if all of your life is that invisible push trying to drown you. And all that hand is a little push that keeps you afloat.

I couldn’t imagine going in water. Let alone surrendering to it. It was always too inviting. Too known, too familiar, and maybe that is the reason why I maintained distance.

But if I know that I’m going in with the push that’ll keep me afloat no matter what happens, it’s relieving.

I hope she always keeps me afloat. No matter how hard the push is.

Always. Afloat.