5,842 km away from dad, 5,197 km away from mom and 10,381 km away from my brother

I looked at the horizon one day and couldn’t see for myself where the ocean ended and the sky began, as though the distance between the last drop of water in the ocean that I could see, and the first blue of the sky were just too close to say apart. I looked at my father that day, a silhouette against the setting sun, and suddenly his shadow was more beautiful to me than the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. I drew distance on navigation maps, and home was mid-ocean, between breakfast and lunch, encrypted in morse code, enclosed as a message in a bottle addressed to someone I didn’t know who.

I walk outside and stare at a reflection of myself on a storefront, and for a moment it’s my mother and I stare long enough so that when night falls I could look for the North star that would lead me to my father who sails in an ocean that blends into the sky. And as I write, I find my brother in my words, his mind full of unfinished thoughts just like mine.

Sunsets and oceans and letters and evenings- this is how I know distance is only just an imposter.




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