To the Sea

September 1, 2011
By 12mscaledonias BRONZE, Tokyo, Other
12mscaledonias BRONZE, Tokyo, Other
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life is too important to be taken seriously --Oscar Wilde

I dream; I dream of one day running out of my house still in pajamas. Barefoot as well, gripping the wet sand under my toes and pushing the half beaten boat off the shore, I jump in to set sail. The cloth catches the silent breeze, so silent as if trying not to awaken anyone before the sun peeks in from the mountains. I venture out into the fog: the unknown. I’ve been waiting for this moment, to be free, on my own, but now that I’m rocking back and forth in the open water, I’m scared. Still, I let the wind sail me forward, and I can only hear myself, breathing long sighs, preparing myself for the uncharted waters.

I haven’t been on the boat for long, but already I don't see any land around me. I peer into the sea over the edge of the boat: it’s just murky navy lapping. I lean forward to touch the water and a small wave tilts the boat and in,
I tumble.
The water is warm than expected, and I feel calm enough to open my eyes to see a million silver-green fish glide past me, between my legs, above my shoulders, and over my head. I wondered if anyone knew that such a beautiful world existed under the dull surface. I stretch my hand out in hopes of snatching one of these beautiful creatures but they slide right through my fingers. Kicking up and grabbing the side of the wooden boat, I heave myself in with leg first.

My wet pajamas cling to me but the sun is up higher now and I feel it warming me. I feel refreshed, seeing the world under the sea for the first time, feeling like I’ve accomplished something. As I wring some water out of my hair, I spot a small speck in the distance, not so far from where I am. It’s a small island, so small I could probably walk around it in five minutes. I’m not close enough to see what’s on the island and I’m drawn to it. What could be on it? What would I find? But the vessel is headed too far to the east and the wind is blowing against my will. I panic: I don't want to go that way! But the wind can’t hear me. I steadily move father away from the island, the wind taking me wherever it pleases. Suddenly I realize that there are oars under the planks in the boat. I take the sail down, pull the oars out from underneath and turn the boat around with two wide paddles. Now I am leading the boat in the direction I want, I have control.

I step out of the boat as it plunges into the sand. The sand is silky and I just want to shove my foot into it. I let myself fall over backwards with a dull poof! and for a few seconds I just lie there, smelling the salt in the air. I prop myself up and walk up the beach, looking for odd things washed up from the sea. There, I spot a big conch shell, big enough to blow like a horn and I pick it up, caressing it in my hands. I carefully grip the shell in both my hands and bring it to my lips. For I second I wonder what my family is doing right now, back in the shades of the house. Taking a long drag of air, I blow, and the bellow of the instrument echoes over the waves like a call home.

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