Once, I went for a walk with a whale on a northern pacific shoreline. Hiking with a dear friend, we were the only humans for miles. From the osprey’s eye view, we stood two dots skirting stark cliff edges, communing, praising a dark, vast ocean. We wished aloud that a whale would appear. Moments later, the spray from a spout, and we locked wide eyes in awe. She called me the conjurer. She called me magic. She said beautiful things like that a lot to me. I said that I’d never seen a whale flap its tail in the wild. Then 3-2-1, a splashy tailfin show. We howled, elated, two she-wolves befriending a humpback. We walked, and he swam alongside us for miles. When we finally turned inland, the whale changed course too, swam towards land, then turned a wide circle before continuing south, a proper goodbye. We waved from shore, shouted gratitude. It was a blessing to be so seen. But that was years ago, and since then our friendship faltered. Miscommunications, hurts, anger, followed by months of silence. I want to tell her now that she had it all wrong. I was never the conjurer. She and I together– that was the magic. Now, when I walk along the shoreline, no whales come.
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"She and I together–
that was the magic". What a great poem/great story. Thank you!
This went straight to my heart 😊