To those who have only known deserts talk of an ocean is meaningless babble.
To those who have only known brokenness talk of wholeness is not compelling… it’s foreign.
To those who have only known sorrow, joy is simply three letters strung together.
To those who have only known death talk of life is laughable.
Only after one sees the content of speech can one understand the words.
I remember cresting the final dune. Both of us sore, our clothes stained by sweat and the sun. I remember the look on her face when she first glimpsed the horizon and realised the noise we were hearing was the tumbling of waves. There was salt on her lips and a light in her eyes as we dove into the water.
Holding the first deep breath.