Waving Not Drowning

The sound of her best friend laughing, choking back snorts and hiccups because she's lost her breath, doubled over and weeping with hysteria. The goosebumps on her forearms when she feels the wind brush over her skin at dusk on a perfectly clear, cool late summer eve. The unexpected email from a stranger halfway around the world thanking her for being herself, sharing her story so that others may grow, understand and feel less alone in their struggles. Fresh organic berries with a cashew cream whip and iced Americano in the backyard hammock. Her sister, miles away, ever present in her heart and mind and all over the house draped in her artwork. Her parents in her. DNA, mannerisms, the tilt of her head while gesticulating with arms akimbo, leaning on her hip, as if to underline her point. Sunrise. Possibility. The last cookie at the cafe while bumping into old friends and impromptu catch up dates. Warm skin next to hers, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, head tucked into a ches...

There really is no other way but straight through. Paul could take a left but that would pull him so far off his chosen course that he'd end up hours behind. Days, maybe. The scenic route is awfully tempting though, especially since the alternative is mind numbingly flat and boring; at this rate stimulation is key. He's been nodding off for the last few hours and jolting himself awake with blaring satellite dance music, windows rolled wide open and copious amounts of glow in the dark energy drinks. Coffee stopped working back in the eastern standard time zone. Not much farther now; 400 kilometres to go then a final 20 or 25 winding through the downtown core proper. If he heads to the coastal highway, he'll add at least another hour. Tempting to pull off at the point, unhook his board and paddle out for a while. To the island even, camp for a night. Maybe never come back. Forage, make do. Build a shelter, light a fire, dig in. Disappear. Start over, once again. If you asked ...