Maybe he forgot, but didn’t mean to forget. Maybe the wind flew him to the sky, and he thought he was floating on my waters. Maybe he confused home with another place. And although he’s gone, maybe he will find his way back.

And he will know it. His mouth will kiss my saltiness. I will carry his exhausted limbs. I will wrap him with blanket as he sleeps under the stars. I will rock him like a child in my arms. I will embrace him. I will love him. And he will know how much I am true, when I wouldn’t let him drown just to make him stay. I will keep the tides low to let him swim freely to the shallow. He will find rocks to climb if he gets tired floating on the deepest parts of me. My waves will sail him to the sand when he misses the grits of sand between his toes. I will let him leave — even if it means not seeing him for a very long time.

And he will know it. I will not move. And I will occasionally reach out to remind him that I am here. That we could be an endless story. I will make him see the most beautiful sunsets. The calmest of the calm. The most quiet of the quiet. The most joyful of the bliss.

But if he doesn’t come back, it would be easier to believe that maybe he forgot, but really didn’t mean to forget. That maybe he confused home with another place.

And maybe one day, he will miss sailing.