I enjoy the sea. Since I was a child anticipation grew within my little heart at any mention of swimming. It took time and effort to drag me out from underneath the waves which I wish I could call home.
The sea brought me weightlessness; all the worries I had washed away as I stepped farther from land and deeper into the water. There I could safely lift my legs away, fly above a world without the fear of fall. With my toes poking out from the surface I’d lay back and allow myself to float freely. Soaking my ears beneath I would muffle out the loud sounds of seagulls and people around me, joyfully listening to the sea’s gentle hums as it rocked me on its waves into a peaceful slumber.
And I slept like this, the sprinkles of the salty water didn’t bother me. I was relaxed. The world on land didn’t exist in my free sailing heart, and time held no meaning to the waves.
Sometimes I would float away. Far away from shore, and it would frighten my parents, it would frighten me, yet in that fear as I swam back I’d take some time and lay on the waves, floating away again. Deep down inside, I never wished to return to shore.
But I had to. I had to swim back from wherever I had floated off, even if it took time. And even now, when I am as pale as a daisy and far away from the sea as a mountain peak, I still float away, on top of my waves, into my own deep abysses. Yet I still swim back home, it just takes me a while…