The Conscious Moment

I love speed. People lead me to believe that I define speed. That’s what it’s all about. That’s okay, just don’t think about last time. I can’t help but think that I had the throttle thrusted down to the handle, travelling atop the crystal clear water, as the misty warm water hit the top of my forehead, while my hair flowed back in the wind and things took a turn for the worst for my most painful experience ever. So perfect, yet so far when I travelled too close to the shore and hit a rock boulder, and everything was a blur from then. Everyone told me that I couldn’t make it back into the business or that it was nearly impossible for me to overcome my injuries and hit the water again. The way I see it, I’m Tommy Livingston and I’m the most skilled to ever ride a jet ski. Doesn’t matter, live for now; live in the moment. I’m back on my jet ski, drifting in the bumpy wakes of that same crystal clear water contemplating myself. I have overcome my injuries and now I need to complete the unthinkable; go fast. Down and back is all I should start with, okay to that tree line, turn at the buoy, and come back. My eyes shift to the red ignition button, and my warm, clammy thumb forces the button all the way down, and I hear her roar again. I’m Tommy Livingston, this is my jet ski, and I’m going to go as fast as I can; no fear. One thing is for sure, it does feel nice to feel that cold tear run down my cheek with the water misting up at me again. In that very moment, I was free again.