Kinship

Of a most unusual kind

I

I’m spellbound — watching her, on the blue screen, in the blue ocean. Sporting three hearts, a cephalopod with panache, jetting through the kelp.

The scene changes, the music builds. A fierce battle ensues, over in a few seconds. The reef shark, with its gnashing jaws, takes her arm but not her will.

Folding herself into a crevice, she bleeds the color of midnight, her boneless body as pale as a pearl. The sun slow-dances westward, the timekeeper moon waxes. She sleeps. She waits.

II

I have only one heart and when it broke that first time, I fell into the deep end, entering a long drift. By day I traveled incognito, by night under a starless sky, I prayed. I waited.

III

She emerges one morning from her rocky bed, waltzing among green ribbons, cloaked in sandy hues, eyes scanning for movement. Her tiny pink-suckered arm working the sea floor with the others.

IV

I remember that moment — swimming back into life, finally coming up for air, my heart beating wildly, startled by the sunlight of your smile.

I was deeply moved by the documentary, My Octopus Teacher, which chronicled the relationship between Craig Foster and a female octopus he befriended while diving near his home in South Africa. Because of this extraordinary film I was once again reminded of the kinship we share with all living beings.

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