TILL THE SUN TURNS BLACK

This ocean of whispering strands, the green collecting into waves, pooling around feet. Wind to rattle leaves and brush burnt skin into shivers. Their vows at the foot of the cross. Orange sunset at the dock with Esther, the stories we've been telling. Dandelion smoke to purple ash. Earthy dark roast with an aftertaste of skunk. Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer. Housewarming party in a cramped IKEA kitchen with Swedish wine. Mirrors in the gravel, the cross, the Ozone layers peeled away. 20 seconds of unforgotten courage. Cutting rocks, dams to build, falls to climb. That pigskin scent. Bonfire chants, laughs between the wet smoke. Our jumbled accents spilling into each other. Micah carried by the current, slipping in until soaked, head back in contagious laugh. Northern Lights across the river while we slept. Sardines, huddled in the van, fogging the windows. New recipes I could never duplicate. Their new apartment, sprawled out to laugh and joke between the couches. Quilt of dandelions. Mary Poppins, a new profession. The Lost Boys of Minnehaha Falls. His unfailing. Summer Shandy to share around the fire. Brainstorm sessions for film project. Discovering long-lost Air Jordans in a box. Hide n go seek in 15 seconds. Pharaoh, Delilah & Jezebel, the new smoky lounge Billie Holiday. The sun against the forest's edge. Love and war, and the sea in between. Waking up to rain on my face. Amish Swag & Co. Early morning giggle sessions. Lacing shoes to chase the black storm, colliding with a rainbow on the otherside. The golden hour over the lake, lantern lit and sent till ashen. Not caring about the rain being cold and soaking through clothes. Creaking doors of abandoned home, locks unlatched, hand to hold in the dark. Thunder for music. Armful of lilacs. Volleyball bruises. Taylor's Falls, following the river, bouldering the rockfaces. Phone call from Kentucky. Claddagh ring on her right thumb.

"Gratitude turns what we have into enough." -Melody Beattie