The train races past trees, blurring the shoreline. The sun is setting and the entire sky is bright pink, purple and orange. I can see my reflection in the window, and just beyond my shoulder is a head of rusty coloured hair. He is not as graceful or peaceful as the scene beyond the window. He is snoring up a storm, most likely waking up everyone seated near us. I can't help but smile. I reach down to the backpack settled by my feet, extracting my camera. I've seen beauty like this around me hundreds of times, but there's something about capturing the moment, this moment that brings me comfort. I glance back towards the setting sun, and direct my lens towards the beautiful man who is now whimpering ungracefully. I am too close to capture his entire body, so I settle on the soft way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. I capture his parted lips. I capture the strong line of his jaw.
The British country side is beautiful. Edward wanted to show me the peaceful shores, We were about to fly down for a weekend the first time... when we found out. I'm pregnant. Again. This time, I've made it. I'm 7 months along. Too far along to fly. My hand settles my camera back into my bag, and reaches up to smooth over my bulging belly. I feel at peace. I feel... Content.
I left behind the bright lights of the city, the city. I left behind the city, because I love him this much. I would give up every single thing I own for him. I would throw myself in the water, not knowing how to swim... Because that splash that I'll create? It just might become the wave that will sail his ship towards the setting sun.
Before meeting Edward, I didn't understand. I didn't understand how it was possible to love so violently. To yearn for a simple look, a mere touch, a whispered word. But now, I know. I am consumed by his love. By him. My body is on fire when he kisses me, and I forgive him everything. I forgive him for leaving, for needing time to grieve, to be himself. I forgive him for not being able to suffer through so much loss; I can't either. He is a man who cries, who fears, who shouts, who can't speak any foreign languages, who is stubborn, who is impulsive, who can't skip stones, and who builds dreadful snowmen. But he is also a man that I love. A man that loves me, that is patient with me, that cooks an amazing risotto, who kisses me just the way I like it, who can draw Florence's Duomo from memory, and who has a bizarre affection for 90s music. He is a man who can swim marvellously well... In the cold, deep water. In the shallows.
A warm hand settles on top of mine, rubbing my bump. He nuzzles into my neck, placing kisses on the exposed skin.
I don't think I'll ever drown, again.
The train makes its way to the platform, the sandy beaches to the west, and rolling hills to the east.
This is where we'll make our home one day.
This is where we'll grow old together, laugh, kiss, make love.
And I'll be perfectly content with dipping my feet in those sandy shallows.