You can close your eyes and think about it but it doesn’t make it true
Sometimes I like to drive and close my eyes, just trying to remember where the road leads. I let go of the gas and hover over the brakes and I try to count to five, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three. I chicken out. I wish I were taller and could drive with my knees like my dad use to when I was little. He would tilt his head back and pretend to sleep while driving, his eyes half shut. I would scream and scream at him trying to wake him and make him open his eyes, yelling with laughter, doubt and fright.
At the edge of the water I can feel the wind pushing around me, swirling my hair around my head, strands sticking to my face with salt and sweat. Turning my face to the sun, my eyes shut to the blinding sun. I open them and stare for a moment of at the boiling ball of gas in the sky and then shut them tight, black spots swimming in front of me. The suns warmth spreads over my face, arms, shoulders and legs I dig my toes into the sand, lean forward, smelling the spray and my shampoo lingering in my hair. I am at the edge of the world, this ocean connected to its sisters stretching out blanketing our planet. Wishing I could step forward, with my eyes shut and open them in anew world.
Diving into the water, a small wave with no will power rolls over my head and I reach with my hands into the bay feeling single shards of sea grass, slimy balls of kelp and a small shrimp skims the back of my hand. I can’t open my eyes under the salty water and its takes manual removal of the salt water from my eyes to open them again. I wipe at my lashes with my fingers and flick the hair out of my face, look down and pick off the debris of the bay clinging to me waiting to be carried back to shore to dry in the hot sun, water evaporating leaving only the salty crust, the essence of the sea on its exterior. If I climb out, lay down on my quilt and close my eyes I too will evaporate, leaving only a crust of salt behind, the sea covering me forever.