Move the Clouds
St Martin, French West Indies | December 2025
The morning of no sound. no technology. no buzzing. no lights of machines in the kitchen, living room, anywhere.
no voice. I don’t speak. I want to hold the quiet.
no retrieving messages or glancing at my phone.
just the luxury and choice of pure
Q U I E T
except for the sound of my bare feet on the floor of my cottage. and the wind moving the trees and the string of sea shells hanging from my front porch covering. the sounds of the sheets on my bed as I poke my feet out from under them.
I get in my car with my bare feet and drive the few minutes to our solitary beach. waves. rain. clouds. sun.
Sand mushing under the weight of my feet (my favorite kind).
Not another person around.
A sky of grey clouds above me.
I stand there in awe of it all.
Hearing so much in the Silence.
“I love you all. So much.”
The sheets of clouds move apart and the Sun hits me.
“We love you too.”
And I recall ~
our love can move the clouds.
To your love,
Christine
12/13/25
