I said: yes.
She said: it’s. You can’t quite. There’s no word for it.
I said: no.
She said: Edwin would have said something poetic.
He would have.
Edwin was a reader.
A quiet man who kept a copy of something good in his shirt pocket.
He would have had the word.
She said: but I think he knew I needed to see it.
She said: I think he knew I was the kind of person who needed to see the ocean.
She said it like it was something she was just now learning about herself.
The specific thing that knowing the ocean does to you.
The way it rearranges the scale of things.
I said: yes.
I said: he was right about that.
She said: how did he know?
I said: because he knew you.
She said: yes.
She said: sixty-one years. He had time to learn me.
