The ocean holds my heart,
with its hazy horizons and 
infinite black depths.

I could watch forever as the 
waves become my pulse
and my breath flows steady in           
the salty breeze.

---

A note on “Mysterious Heart”:

I found the beginnings of this vignette the other day. It was much rougher in its original state–half a thought, maybe–but reading it immediately brought me back to the moment that I scribbled it in the margins of my beat-up Moleskine.

It was 2012, and I had just moved to Brooklyn. My already small savings account was shrinking while I spent most of my days desperately applying for jobs. It was terrifying and exciting, because I had managed to escape another town in search of a different future. (And, while not the most advisable move, it brought me to my current path where I am happily married with a toddler and two cats.)

The summer days were hot, especially in a third floor apartment with no air conditioning. I would often escape the heat by walking a few blocks down to the water, where I would sit at bench along the promenade, gazing up at the majestic Verrazzano.

I wrote these thoughts down during one of those perfect evenings where the air was cold and charged with the electricity of an impending storm. The ocean was rolling and dark under a grey-purple sky. The breeze was kicking up a salty mist from below the promenade, sending a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin.

It was a moment where I felt so small and so content in that smallness. It reminded me that there was a whole world outside of my own–that my problems were as small as I was. Maybe that’s a scary thought, but to me it was comforting, and I am grateful to the ocean for letting me know that it would all be okay.

-Juniper