Sailing by Ashley Dunbar

Sailing

by Ashley Dunbar

We jumped into the foaming waves, clasping the ledge of the boat’s hull and pulling it toward the pebbles on the shore. The water grabbed at our calves, inching up toward our thighs, but we were faster. I laughed with the sun shining comfortably onto my freckled cheeks and watched as the muscles in your back flexed upon your pulling of the boat. Once we chained it down to the shoreline, we stood, breathing heavily, and staring at the scenery. Clouds, in bright white wisps, painted the rich blue sky. They looked delicate, like strands of hair I could twist between my fingers for hours. You touched my sun-kissed shoulder, bringing my eyes to meet yours.

I reluctantly turned mine up to your deep brown eyes, the color of straight coffee, with the edges of your pupils undetectable. The weather had browned your skin and lightened your hair. The salt from the ocean had taken away the smoothness in your face and hands, but they still felt good against my shoulder. I turned my eyes back toward the boat. White with a red bottom, sails leaning slightly to the left, ropes wound tightly round metal. This is what we had given up a year to do-I would have done it sooner had I known it would mean spending it with you.

Living Water

Photo by Christen Cool