it comes in waves, he says, and i feel his words echo in my bones.
it comes in waves, he says. it starts as a tsunami caused by something earth-shattering; a storm that cannot be predicted. it leaves you on the coast of a broken city, trying to pick up the pieces of a world you once you knew.
it becomes a wave, she says. scientifically speaking, waves don’t transport matter, they transport energy. this energy will build, cresting into a wave. foaming at the surface, the water will rise until it is standing like a wall in front of you. eventually, it will break.
it comes in waves, he says. it will seem calm, until the wind blows in a memory – a song, a joke, a smile, a day – any moment almost forgotten. the tide will try to pull you in. it will attempt to drown you in nostalgia. keep your feet planted on the ground, dig your toes into the sand. do not succumb.
it becomes a wave, she says. if you try to suppress the ocean, it will fight back. as you try to hold the water down, it will build and come crashing down on you. you will crumble, sahara. don’t let that happen.
it comes in waves, he says. and there is no force on earth, no mortal that can stop the waves from coming. so i’ve learned to hold my breath and wait for the water to calm before i inhale. otherwise you end up with saltwater in your lungs as you cough and gasp for air. i have learned to tread water and to keep my head just above the surface.
it becomes a wave, she says. but waves aren’t always a bad thing. we need the ocean to survive. we just can’t let it overcome us.
it comes in waves, he says. and after all this time, i think i am finally learning to swim.
– on grief