If the salt of the ocean is the salt of my tears, do I cry a whole ocean? Do I replenish it or does it replenish me? Are we one in the same?

It is known that the concentration of sodium chloride in my body, which is pretty much the table salt my mom salts her apples with, it’s known to be the same as in the concentration of seawater.

Did I come from the ocean? Did you come from the ocean?

When I want a good long cry, I go to the ocean. It is loud, louder than my sobs, my screams. The mist and my tears blend in one, sliding in their zig zagged patterns off the side of my face. The wind where the ocean meets my feet is driven by the currents driven by the gravity of the moon driven by the earth’s rotational pull blows the tears right off my face to be absorbed in the sand, back to the ocean.

I stare at it and it stays the same on the top. But underneath it’s bubbling, teaming, swirling, visible and invisible. It is me. And it is us. Salt and wounds.