8-9

I fell in love today, briefly.

He was standing in the cold water, staring into the gentle surf as he moved slowly over the intricate colored rocks.

He glanced up from his slim legs and long feet to smile and greet me, and he looked like my first love- at least what I could remember of him, a sensitive little boy with messy hair and artistic fingers who wanted to take me to Paris many years before I developed any kind of appreciation for the kind of boy who wanted to take me to Paris. 

I like the way he walked slowly, and smiled slowly. I like his appreciation and concern with the rocks- his determination to find the perfect ones, removed from the majority of shore pickers. I thought, I need someone who will walk slowly with me and who smiles when he means it and loves the prettiest colored rocks in the freezing waters.

I thought that was you for a long time, but your smile was calculated, and you wanted to walk ahead. I need a man like this slim tall boy who will move gently beside me and has smooth even edges.

I'm lying to myself now though. I liked your rough edges. They were like a secret. They made me love my own. But I forgot sometimes to be careful, and they hurt.

I didn't even mind when you walked ahead, so long as you came back. So long as you didn't mind that I wanted to wander on my own, too. So long as when I reached out you would come.

By the time I've decided it's responsible to turn back, the spell is broken. I have fallen out of love with the handsome boy man, who offers me another smile but has fallen out of love with me too. 

It doesn't matter though. The even rhythm of the waves and the guttural grinding of stones beneath my boots has calmed the mad creatures in my head. A million colors move beneath my feet, memorizing. I push the stones toward the water and sand with my steps. 

Next year little boys and slim friendly boy men will hunt for them, and find them polished and buried where I once tread.