Last year for my birthday you sat laughing in a hot tub
in a rented house in the desert, more at ease with the
friends gathered than with me. I knew for sure.
This year, just this afternoon, you took me whale watching, in the
freezing Alaskan Spring. It was raining hard ice on the water
from a gray sky, and you were violently sea sick.
The boat circled the bay for an entire day for the sliver of a single
whale so black with the sea that it was barely visible.
I teared up with delight, holding a hot chocolate like a child.
I know that you struggle and that you don’t trust women.
I love that you threw up for hours without a single word of complaint
so I could see an illusive creature for half of a minute.
I’m reminded of the lone bear in a tree that we spotted on our
drive to this small coastal village that runs the off-season tours.
You are moving out on a limb, intentionally. I know for sure.
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