There I stand, naked, looking down upon my feet.
I reach for the shower faucet and turn it slowly to the
right.
I close my eyes,
Patiently awaiting the inevitable change.
The cold water hits the back of my head, my eyes open.
My entire chest goes tight as my body internally reacts to
the change.
I watch the water fall down my abdomen in an intricate
network of rivers.
I close my eyes again.
I’m no longer in South Dakota.
I’m no longer land locked.
I now see the same network of streams running down my stomach.
But this time I’m at the beach.
The water is cold.
I really like the colder water.
It’s refreshing on my sun-beaten skin after hours out in the
ocean.
I feel alive.
Where others find discomfort, I’ve found peace.
I like the cold water cascading down my body.
I open my eyes.
I’m back in a closed off shower.
I’m land locked.
My board has been replaced by a loofa.
I turn the water off.
A moment of hesitation,
I know when I draw back the curtain, my life begins again.
My life away from the Islands,
My life away from the culture,
My life away from my home.
They wouldn’t understand.
Even now, I only describe the physical
But who can describe the emotional attachment to such
activities.
Weeks and months go by, eroding,
But the memories hold even stronger.
