Sea Foam

One summer, when I was about five years old, I abruptly glanced upon the vast sea with new eyes, ones that saw the water that I used to love so dearly in a petrifying new light. It occurred to me the depths of the ocean, vast, nebulous, and never-ending. It occurred to me the currents, strong and unpredictable, the many dark creatures, invisible and expectant under the surface. It occurred to me the possibilities of death and pain that the ocean could cause me. 

So I decided to keep my distance. I no longer joyed in the depths alongside my friends and family, I kept my knees dry by the shore, waves curling slowly over my feet innocently, where I could stay safe. 

One day, as I sat on the shore, I watched a clump of sea foam drift by. It bobbed sensitively on the warping surface, its bubbly form shaking in the gentle breeze. It drifted forward with the waves, drifted back, swaying. I was mesmerized. I got up from my seat in the sand and stepped into the water, and to my ankles, the surface rose. I fiddled with the foam joyfully, but it started to dissipate and drift away. Without thinking, I followed the venturing bubbles farther out from the shore. Shins, knees, thighs. I kept going, following the foam further yet out into the depths. And then my feet were floating, and my breath was catching, and I realized how far I'd gone out. Treading frantically, I watched the bubbles drift away. They meant nothing to me now. 

I was suddenly aware of everything, and my mind began racing. I felt the temperature of the water on my skin like cold needles. I felt the wind, undeniably harsher now, rushing through my hair violently. Did something touch my leg? Is the shore getting farther away now? Where is Mom? The water began tossing me back and forth the deeper I drifted, my body so hopeless and weak in the face of such a force that was the sea. Waves began swelling bigger and more aggressively, and my whole body began shaking. I found myself caught in the spot where waves crash, but it was still too deep for me to touch. Waves crashed on me, and I felt so far away from life and safety. The darkness of the sea’s depths that I dreaded so much was now below me, and it was engulfing me and weakening me, and there was no way my little five-year-old self was going to win against this. 

There was a wave on the horizon that approached me in a terrifying way. Its crown materialized slowly as it rushed towards me, finally cresting in front of the sun before tumbling down onto my hopeless body. The wave flung me far beneath the surface, down into the dark abyss, and I rolled silently with the strength of the following waves. For what felt like eternity, I was swallowed by the ocean, the plume of darkness below consuming my pure body completely. For a second, I thought I would die right then and there. I flailed my arms in an attempt to reach the air, but the light seemed to be so far above me. I stopped trying then, and I let the ocean have me. 

With my surrender, an unconscious current took hold of me in a gentle, almost motherly way. It tossed and swayed me sweetly, comforting my unease as I floated in the blue, silent waters. From above, a shower of light severed the metallic blue surface and kindly pattered down onto my born skin like childish laughter. No spoken word pierced the soft, numb world that now held me so tightly. I felt okay all of a sudden, and the fear drained from my body like ink from an open pen. I playfully spun in the depths, wiggling my body yet deeper into the heart of the sea. I filed my hands through my wavy hair and silently flipped, spinning and turning with the ocean’s thrusts. I felt myself re-enter the break, and above, white explosions silently settled into the underwater world with epic grace. As waves continued crashing above, I swam with the pressure and pulse of the sea, completely hopeless still, forward past the break. 

I, having made some tranquil agreement with the tides, danced under the sea freely, my little human body small and feeble, yet completely safe. I silently awed at the sublime beauty of the depths that I’d deemed vicious for so long. I forgave the ocean and surfaced to peaceful waters. The wind had calmed, and a sweet breeze playfully came to me, warmly rushing through my golden brown hair. I swam forward to where I could touch the sands with my tiny feet. I looked up at the sky above, pleasant and blue as it was before. It’s okay, I told myself. My heart still beat fast, but the fear that had been coursing through my body had completely dissipated; the beating was of excitement and pure joy. 

The water continued to guard me as I swam over to my friends and family in the depths down the beach.

Before I reached them, though, I dipped silently below the surface once more and let myself drop. The plume of blue darkness once again engulfed me, but I let it do so willingly. I, believing I was some special mermaid descendant, thanked the ocean, quite literally mouthing thank you to the underwater world around me. I was happy with that and smiled sweetly as I swam forth to enjoy the ocean as I once had before. When I got over to my mom, breathless, she spun me around in the water and we floated together over the bobbing waves. She smiled at me carefully.

“You okay?” She asked. 

I thought for a moment. Was I? After that?

“Yes,” I said. 

And I meant it. That yes wasn’t about finding the shore again or finding my footing in the sand. I had gone into the dark, though unwillingly, and returned with light to hold and cherish which I would never give up. In those crashing waves, a lesson became eternal; I didn’t need to run from the things I told myself would catch me anymore, I could face things, and come out okay, come out better. That day, I learned that courage doesn’t mean never being afraid; it means swimming forward even when you are. Meeting the ocean’s strength helped me find my own. I am forever grateful for the clump of sea foam that came my way that day and ushered me into that storm of my own creation. Those bubbles taught me that a comfort zone will kill spirit and kill joy if it is never broken from.