We have been driving for a half an hour when Mark turns to me and says, "Are you wondering where the hell we are going?"
"No. You said we were going to see some bluffs. You said they're on the Lake. It's a big lake."
"Yeah. Well, they're on the north side," he says.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. The north side of the lake is Canada. "Well since I didn't bring a passport I guess there'll be a lot of cock sucking at the border."
"Yeah, that was part of the international agreement. Passport or blow job." Obviously, none of the kids are in the car with us.
We park just a few yards from the pebble beach and almost immediately I see why we are here.
"I'm really surprised you've never been here before, what with you being a huge fan of erosion and all."
I smirk at him. I
am a huge fan of erosion. I've written love poems to erosion. I shake my head and snort. He's not making fun and I'm not making fun, it's just funny.
The bluffs are like knives into the sky, carving space like it is a thing. Rocks hanging from the sheer cliffs, knowing that a good rain will make them tumble down. Mark takes me to these moments at least twice a month, my jaw hanging down and my eyes full of tears because I know my, our, humans' place. We are so impatient, we hardly belong on this planet.
We walk along the beach. I point out different rocks, "That's metamorphic. You can tell by the striations. They are what we call erratics. They don't belong here. They were brought by glaciers from Canada. we don't have metamorphic rocks here."
As we walk, he plucks shiny rocks from the shore line and brings them to me for approval and instruction. When he's twisting me around in bed, throwing my legs here or pushing against there, he resembles an animal--not at all like this man-child. I stare at him. He's beautiful and complex but ultimately pure in a way that I understand. He is never anything other than what he is at that moment. Maybe that is meaningless to you, but it means everything to me.
We climb into the palms of the bluffs. I make all the oohing and aaahing sounds that mean sincere awe. I think about dieing here, just laying back and sinking into the mud until I am just more erratica to be washed onto the beach, into the lake.
Once we are past the bluffs, Mark starts balancing rocks in impossible positions. I've seen him do this a handful of times. Usually I watch so I can catch that ah-ha moment when gravity is defeated, but today I start gathering the white rocks. Limestone, marble, sandstone. I place them along the highest ridge of the beach, outlining it just to make sure that everyone notices this simple wonder of the world.
We spend at least an hour, if not two, orbiting one another. Checking in just for a moment then returning to our work. Sometimes when I let myself think silly things this is what I imagine for us in five or ten years. Him drawing or sculpting in the garden while I write shoeless on the porch, old soul music on the stereo and the slow emptying of beer and wine bottles. What I imagine is years of this hour or two.
We climb to the top of a bluff and walk around the wooded ledges. We peer over the bluffs. I think about a friend who went surfing down the side of a valcano in Peru. These bluffs are nothing compared to a volcano. The magnitude of our universe is stunning.
In the car, driving back to the city, Mark asks, "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah," I say.
"What do you want?"
"Something fattening and bad for me, actually."
He smiles in his way that makes me feel like I am made of something other than solid matter. I don't think he has ever been so pleased by anything that has come out of my mouth and I know that he will make sure I get exactly what I want.
Comments (9)
Happy for you!
i enjoyed this entry.
are you going to sacramento in oct/nov?
love.
T.x
What an amazing day you two shared! May you have many more days like this one!
You write very well - - the images as you describe them are vivid within my imagination.