The bright blue twinkles before me, the waves curl and roll with such pristine splendour. I prepare myself for the swell: my tiptoes dangle above the lapping at the shore, and I smile, I smile so widely that I want more, so much more, of the cooling caress which grips my extremities like refreshing, watered diamonds. The sprinkles, the splashes, my heart it stills, it grows.
What did I do to deserve this amazing experience, these rocking, hilly blues? A reflection of skyward azure, wandering below, across the crystalline views. I tiptoe, step by step, into the creeping shallows, as smoothly as it breathes across the damp sand which I imprint with impressions of me, my footprints, my imprints, which disappear beneath the wetness. Sandy signs that I’ve been here are only visible for seconds, seemingly emulsified, or eaten away, into the surrounding and temporary moulds. The water trails higher, higher above my ankles, midway up my calves, then my thighs – I can feel the chill of the robust crests grabbing at them, then I dive in, head-first – the rush of coldness makes me breathless.
I feel at one with the shimmer, although I cannot see it, I feel the ebb and the flow, and with legs seemingly now melded together as though the tail of a mermaid, I dive deeper, exploring far below. I dare myself to open my eyes; such wonder there is down here so low: sparkling, whimsical, fantastical, a living world before my eyes unfolds. How could I have spent so much of my life on land? I ask myself, feeling numb from what is visible in this underwater world. I shake myself, take away this odd, unfamiliar feeling, and decide to explore everything, or at least as much as I can see.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
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