For almost half of my life, I was just a toe-dipper supplicant to the heartless, flawless ocean.
I can't seem to get the hang of swimming. Many people have tried to teach me on so many different occasions, but my limbs refuse to move as they ought to. I know that this is mostly brought about by fear. I do not understand the water; I do not understand what is in its very heart. So when people invite me to go to the beach, I am filled with equal parts dread and excitement. Until one day, some one gave me the tools to overcome my fear. What best motivation to face a fear than to be made to understand what is waiting for you beneath?
One summer day, our whole work unit went to the beach. It was as much fun as office activities get, in that awkward do-I-laugh-or-do-I-not way. It was threatening to be a memory lost in the annals of history if it weren't for one incident that changed my whole perspective of the sea, and then some. The new boy, whose skin is like chocolate, is a diver. You can see by the way he paddles and frolicks in the water that he has a romance with the sea. He could be dancing on dry land, except he was in water. He was the only one who dared to swim farther than the rest of us, itching to know what could be seen in the depths of the cove. Perhaps he saw that everybody else didn't have the facility, or maybe, the courage, to go where the corals are, so he offered to ferry those of us who would like to take a peek through his snorkeling mask. He told us we could hold on to his shoulder as he swims, while we try to float, because the view out there is fantastic.
I wish I said I was the first volunteer. No, I'm a reasonably brave girl, which means, I let others go first to observe if they survive the ordeal. The first, the second, the third went and came back with rave reviews. Surmising i have a big chance of doing it and go home alive, I decided to go next. Me, who had never been in waters too deep for my toes to reach if I stretch my body taut.
I remember getting too scared to remember to kick my feet to help propel my weight, but the Boy reminded me in his gentle voice, reassuringly that i could do it. When we sailed towards the middle of the ocean, I think I died for a few seconds. But when I saw what was underneath, I realized, no, I have never felt more alive than this moment.
How do i describe the bottom of the sea? There are no words, except beautiful.
And it was that exact second, I told the Sea, "I am not afraid of you anymore."
When we got back to shallow waters, the sea has changed. It was no longer an inscrutable mistress. It was a welcoming, waiting mother who longs to cradle me again and share her precious treasure.
And the Boy has changed too. He was no longer the new boy with the chocolate skin. He has become an inscrutable mystery, to be solved. I realized I have exchanged one deep water for another. And this one, I have never resurfaced from since.
