World of Wonder

Shafts of light slide through the surface, hitting plants, slithering upwards like tentacles on an octopus. Fish swarm like bees, ripples of magic. Through the lens of my mask, I can see a world different than any I’d ever seen before. Seaweed slides over my skin as I pass through peacefully. Name any color in the rainbow, and it’s right here, on this coral reef. My tank is light on my back. My flippers glide like birds. Bubbles shimmy upwards, floating up to safety, bouncing, the pockets of water their own little trampolines. Spreading branches of light rest on the uneven sand floor.

I swim down and pick up a seashell, wondering about its journey. I decide to keep it. I want to touch every cloud of color. Eventually, I have to find my way back up. I don’t yet, though, wanting to explore more. When I turn my head, there is a pink jellyfish, its cap billowing, a great skirt, its arms like hair, flying underneath it. I push myself by the rocks, and my eyes adjust to a small creature passing over like the moon over the sky. Its flippers guide it. Its shell wears a piece of art. Its green head looks at me curiously. I am sad when it disappears in the folds of the water.

A crab scuttles over a rock, darting behind. Then it peeks over the edge, realizing I’m no harm. I search for a word to describe this wonder. But once the word is about to find my thoughts, a fish waves its way over the rock, no crab to tip it off anymore like a cherry on a scoop of ice cream.

I feel my throat tightening, without much air left. My tube is pulling in nothingness. I drink up my remaining air, swimming upwards. Above me, there is only light mingled with water.

My head pops above the surface. It’s satisfying to be in air again. There’s the boat, waiting for me. A friend aboard waves.

“Can I go back?” I yell, pushing toward the boat.

“Tomorrow!” she grins.