Where the Waves Break

Where the Waves Break

As I emerged from the other side of a wave, I fluttered my eyes open and pushed my hair out of eyes to tackle the next one. I swam up to it at the time I usually did; as the swell of water begins to form a wave. But something was off about the timing of this one; by the time I got into position the wave was already massive, a looming threat above me.

Fearing its impending collapse I dove into the wave immediately. When I tried to pop my head above the water, where the other side of the wave should be, I inhaled not sweet, warm Hawaiian air, but a lungful of bitter saltwater.

I’ve always thought that the ocean has a voice. After all, how could those waves come crashing down on the beach minute after minute, day after day, year after year, without any sort of message that is meant to be heard. Or perhaps it isn’t a message that is heard, but rather one that is felt by those that know it best. Living just mere steps from the ocean, I thought I knew the true voice of the sea; I thought I knew everything it was trying to tell me. Little did I know not only how wrong I was, but that I would discover its true message soon enough; and it wasn’t one I was likely to forget anytime soon.

I could feel nothing but the pounding of my feet on the smooth, silky sand and the beating of my heart in my chest. I could see nothing but blue: emerald ocean and aqua sky; and could hear nothing but the sound of the crashing waves coming ever nearer. It was just another typical day for me Wainiha, Kauai. Another day in paradise so to speak.

I had always been a strong swimmer, taking to the water almost like a fish does when I was only a toddler. But then again what else would you expect growing up in Hawaii? Pools, lakes, ponds, you name it, I swam in it. But nothing could ever rival my love for swimming in the ocean. The feel of the salt on my skin, the gentle cradling of the waves as they envelop me and then release me again, and the feeling of accomplishment that came with every minute you were in the water.

People are scared of the ocean. For as long as humans have been on this earth the ocean has been something great and vast, something shrouded in mystery. Every second that I was in the water I felt like I was brave. I was doing something that others were terrified of, flirting with the very thing that seemed impossibly powerful.

I thought I knew better than those people. I thought the ocean was nothing so Machiavellian as the ocean of their fears. I thought that I could handle anything it could throw at me. For years I been proved right in my assumptions. Almost every day of my life I dove into the ocean and every time I did I came back alive. I had no reason to believe that I was wrong. In my mind, I was invincible.

Today there was nothing out of the ordinary on our little stretch of beach. The sand was the same soft, white powder; the wind was gently blowing as if Mother Nature herself was whistling quietly; and the ocean was humming its same, reassuring lullaby.

I hardly felt anything as I transitioned from the warm sand to the cool ocean. I didn’t slow my pace until I was about waist deep in the water. Without any hesitation of heart or of mind, I dove into the water with the perfect form one might expect from an Olympic swimmer. I glided through the water with ease, my arms and legs moving in perfect tandem to propel me forward at rapid speed until I reached the point where the waves break. It was here that I loved swimming most of all.

I stopped just at the base of the wave and watched as it rose, towering like an intimidating figure above me until it seemed that it was defying gravity by not breaking. At this point, is when I plunged headfirst into the churning wave, only to emerge into calm water on the other side. Wave after wave would come through, and I would plunge myself into the heart of each and every one, like an arrow piercing through film.

But now, the wave jerked me back towards the shore, as if I were merely a puppet on strings, and I went flying back into the innermost parts of the wave. I was tossed and turned and shaken about. My body went flying end over end over end until I had absolutely no clue which way was up anymore. At one point my back scraped along the sandy bottom of the ocean floor; and I desperately clawed and scraped at it, trying to find a way to keep myself in a secure position. Trying desperately to save myself. But the ocean only ripped me away and flung me back into its depths.

I was pulled with an irresistible force; stronger than anything I’d ever felt in my life. I was dragged downwards and downwards into deep and churning areas of the sea, where humans were not meant to venture. I screamed and flailed, trying anything that could possibly get me back in control.

But I was denied this. I was helpless. Defenseless. Paralyzed. Powerless. Left to mercy of the impossibly powerful. My fate was in another’s hands.

And then finally, with an undercurrent that was as strong and as sudden as the wave that had taken me, my body was flung upwards, towards the light. And when my head snapped above the water, I gasped in the air.