We sat together later that night, away from the things of man, under the dust of the Milky Way and Sagittarius' arrow, silent and still. We fumbled around in the dark for words that would not come. We offered our oldest son, the one that brought us to that day, to the sea to be swallowed and reborn a man, and the sea accepted our gift and gave us back a child changed; eyes slightly wider, stance slightly taller, made new in our eyes and in his own.
That night, when the world went black and the house moved in time with the breaths of our sleeping family, we lay next to each other in the thick salt air of night and listened to the waves crashing against our door; calling for us, coming for us. As the moon pulled itself into the sky and brought with it a new decade in our lives together, I took your hand in mine and with a whisper wished you a happy anniversary. Under the light of that moon and the weight of those waves, we drifted into sleep and out to sea.