“Hand on your heart,” she says.
“Visualize your happy place.”

“It’s a cruise ship,” I answer.
“The one I took six months after.”

“Breathe,” she reminds.

Salt air cleanses my lungs.

I’m standing on the stern,
watching the water foam
in thick white trails.

At the back of the boat,
no one is judging me,
wondering if my grief
lingers too long.

I can throw tears over the rail
like ashes. I can rock inside
the sound of swirling water.

I can whisper into the waves.

And I can feel him near me,
listening.