I can’t get the word unmoored out of my head.
Unmoored from the harbor. Reaching for the ropes. Swimming while not quite remembering how. The waves crest, the water calms, and then again and again, and still, my feet barely brush the sea floor below.
Unmoored from myself. Tricking myself into patterns that have worked before and then holding on by the crook of my finger.
It could be the word I’m looking for is surrender. Not to the depths, but to the rocking of the water. Trusting that no matter where the current takes me, I’ll eventually be carried back to shore.
With Love,
Natalie