How Does it Relate to Love?

We stood on the hill above the beach, looking at the view.

‘How does it relate to love?’ she said.

I loved her for that. Always finding a way to bring things back to love. When we first met I dismissed this as some obsession. But she challenged me by saying it was common sense.

As the months went by, I realised it meant living to the highest degree.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘the beach is a wide curve. A warm golden sand. A caressing breeze coming in from the blue horizon. The lazy swash of the sea – it’s like it’s all nurturing us.’

‘Urging us to live?’

‘Yes. Like the freedom of love. When love works, when it’s at its best. The lovely feeling of being in love, when you’re safe and protected, allowed the space to be yourself. To unwind. To explore and play.’

She paused as she looked at the beach, as if she was taking it all in, and then she turned to me and said, ‘I like that. I like that a lot.’

‘You like love a lot.’

‘Naturally,’ she replied and held my hand tighter. ‘Only a fool wouldn’t.’

I could sense her soul, beneath her clothes and her skin, resonating, breathing, as though relieved she could now tie the landscape in with the language of love. Only now did the beach come alive to her.

‘You’re drawing me closer to you, and into you,’ I said tenderly.

‘It’s a gift,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s like I’ve got a radar, seeking out the love in the landscape around us.’