…with the sea.
It’s true. I’m completely besotted… soaked through and through.
Some people wax poetic about their love, the ocean. It’s so powerful, they’ll say. It makes them feel inconsequential in the big scheme of things, they’ll add.
But the ocean is too violent for me, with all it’s rip tides and crashing surf. I feel like the ocean means to do me harm without even trying to disguise its intentions. The ocean doesn’t even bother with Groucho glasses. It’s cold and deep; God only knows what lurks in its depths — a great white, a giant eel? Think I’m gonna wait around to find out?
The ocean seems like a big jerk sometimes, with all it’s tsunamis and hurricanes. Why doesn’t the ocean just calm down for a minute and show me its soft side?
And as far as being a drop in the ocean–I don’t want to feel inconsequential, I want to feel like my existence matters. Who wants to feel like their life doesn’t matter?
The sea laps gently against the shore. It invites me in, winning me over with it’s charm. “Come in,” it seems to say. “Float on your back for a while, I’ll lull you to sleep.”
I’m a mediocre swimmer at best, but the sea makes me feel like Michael Phelps on his last 5 meters. I don’t know if this buoyancy is particular to the Aegean and Ionian, but the only direction I seem to go is up. The sea supports my effort and makes me feel like it’s more than enough. The sea doesn’t want me to exhaust myself. Just a little paddle here and there, a little flick of my feet and I’m on my way. Honestly, most of the time I just need to lift my legs and I’m off like a swordfish.
Some people insist that lakes are heaven on earth. They’re enraptured by calm sapphire waters and freshwater fish.
I grew up next to a lake — a Great Lake they called it, in capital letters. We could never swim in the lake because of a bacteria that no one could name. Fisherman can no longer eat from the Great Lake because the fish are full of bacteria and mercury. A few months ago, I read about an amoeba found in stagnant lakes that enters through the nostrils and eats away at the brain.
Lake lovers… why tempt fate? Haven’t we learned this lesson from Oedipus? Come join me in the sea.
Because of my history with oceans and lakes, it took me awhile to feel comfortable in the sea. My first month in Greece, I scurried out of the water at the first brush of seagrass against my skin. I thought that the great white shark my sister D always worries about had finally mistaken me for her. I left whirlpools in my wake, but the sea understood that these things take time. The sea was everything I never knew I needed.
P.S. No offense meant to ocean and lake lovers. Just trying to win you over to my love.
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