With a child's intent, I cup water from the sink with two hands and threaten you, arms raised in mock force above your head. The water begins to trickle down my arms, laughter erupting as you pull me forward and I am the only one doused. A cool spin in the smallest of oceans, flooded instead with promise and so many possible futures it is easy to believe I'm drowning.

I drive away reluctantly, the wind dormant for the hour, two wild turkeys pillaging the neighbor's lawn, struck only for an instant with concern at the sight of my car. A good distance from the north, their presence is perhaps indicative of destruction and the insuppressible instinct to go on.

In the bitter cold I imagine a good roll in the sand, umbrella shadow playing on my palm, sea inching toward our feet, hours of immobile activity and discussions revolving simply around where to eat and what else to drink. Storm gathering over distant waves, it is beautiful and more than an arm's length away.