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.