I made a beeline for the water, moments after arriving. The sound of the waves crashing against the pebbled beach drew me into the chilled ocean. It certainly erased the notion of sunblock from my mind, much to my detriment.
First to my ankles, then to my knees. Already shivering, I knew I had to get it over with. At mid-thigh I dove in, piked down to the bottom, and listened. When you’re underwater, there’s always a distant rumble, and once in a while you’ll hear the high-pitched hum from a speedboat. Rolling onto my back I stared into the light refracting against the choppy waves into my eyes. Kicking off the bottom, I emerged from the surface gasping for air. There’s something about incredibly cold water that makes it hard to breathe.
I kicked onto my back. Floating. The surface water is always warmer in the sun. There I lied with my back arched, my toes bobbing in and out of the air, and listened to myself breathe. I could feel the heat from the sun against my body and felt more at peace than in a long, long time.
I should swim more often.
photo: Rachelle Rae House
Mirrored from my blog at:
http://www.littlebill.net