Ocean

It’s a warm, breezy morning when I run to the waves. I drop my things at the beach, then I wade in. The wind makes my hair swish all around, but I don’t care. I'm just so glad to be back.

I swim to a rock that’s pretty far out. I climb onto it, then lift my head to face the rising sun. There’s a fire in me that burns for the ocean. It’s the only place where I feel truly free.

I look back down and smile as I fall into the ocean. I quickly dive deeper, opening my eyes. I swim to the reef, a civilization of fish and other creatures. I belong here. There’s a small shell that I quickly grab, and then I resurface, my face breaking through the water, a wave gently pushing me. I set the shell on the rock, then dive back in.

 This time I move to the right, away from the reef. I descend into a nautilus darkness, but yet I’m not scared. It’s . . .  beautiful. And then I see a decently large, looming shadow approaching me. It’s a shark. My breath catches in my chest;  I’ve never seen one as big as this in the wild. I usually see the small, harmless ones from time to time at the reef. Fear starts to grip me, clawing at my weakness.

All of the things I’ve learned about sharks rush into my head, and I know that I should slowly back away, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I swim closer to it, and when it’s about five feet away, I immediately notice that its snout is short and bluntly rounded, and I know that it’s a Caribbean reef shark. These aren’t deadly, so I decide to visit it in a minute because I need air.

I quickly get air, then dive back down. This time the shark approaches me, and I know not to be scared. It’s just curious. As it slowly swims away, I realize that this is why I love the ocean— it’s so terrifying, yet beautiful.