Despite
rough sea stone
and the smell of salt,
deep
deep
breaths,
sips of water,
forced smiles,
looking pointedly elsewhere,
globes of brilliant glass
flowing from palm to palm,
folded fingers
twining fingers
hard fisted fingers,
stretch and twist and bruise;
despite all these dodges
distractions, defenses–
I still cried.

Maria particularly dislikes when her regular coping mechanisms fail, and leave her floundering. She’s having a much better day now.