Oceans

I make my way down the old, splintery dock. It’s Monday evening, and the warm ocean breeze transforms my once neatly straightened hair into a tangled mess as it whips across my face. My fingers feel around my temple for a stray hair caught in the tight crease of my eye. The salty air has an earthy smell from the algae-spotted grey water swirling around the edge of the pier. Farther down the beach, seaweed swishes and thrashes with the pull of the current. A thousand bony fingers sculpt the curve of the waves. My white sundress dances around my knees in a gust of wind. I sit down and swing my legs over the side of the pier. The ocean fascinates me. What can be so peaceful one day yet so dangerous the next? I wouldn’t say I have a fear of water, but peering down into the abyss always makes my stomach drop. It’s similar to the feeling I get on a roller coaster before rocketing down the first hill. The ocean excites me, so naturally I’m drawn to the huge mass of salty water. Just think of all the untold stories the depths hold, all the secrets they will never tell. It’s intriguing, isn’t it?

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