The Girl and the Ocean - May 18, 2011

As she gently walks into the ocean, she feels the cool rush of water brushing over her feet. Sending shivers through her body, starting at the base of her soles, coarse and rugged from walking. Up her legs, soft and unbroken, perfectly contrasting the rough waters of the sea. Then to her hips, up her spine, and through her neck. As the shivers pass her lips she smiles, so beautifully, so gently. Her teeth lightly glistening under the burning sun. She gazes up at the sky, her eyes as blue as the ocean. She stops for a moment to let the sun warm her body. Ridding the goosebumps from her neck just as quickly as they came.  She feels the sand rushing through her toes, almost as if it had somewhere to go.  She feels the millions of invisible particles colliding so slightly together she will never know they existed.  She feels the tide's attempt to claim her, as the ocean pulls at her feet.  She looks out past the empty horizon, dreaming of a world far away. A world without worries. A world without pain. Golden sand covers her body; every curve, every crevise.  She waits patiently for the water to reach her hands, so she can wash away the sand. But it seems like the ocean is taunting her, reversing the tides as she reaches down. Challenging her to walk further into his waiting arms. She accepts his challenge and walks further into the unknown, leaving the world she knows behind.  With each step she takes the ocean's pull grows on her; grasping at her legs, screaming and tugging trying to take her.  Slowly, she drags her fingertips across the surface, taunting the ocean, challenging him to pull harder. The farther she walks, the deeper the water becomes. The farther she walks, the colder her heart becomes. The ocean is now rising above her waist, sending shivers up her spine.  For a moment she feels a slight sense of fear, but she ignores the feelings and continues on. One step after another, one step after another.  The water's rising higher and higher, now up to her chin.  She stops for a moment, to collect herself, to taste the salt on her dry lips.  She knows she cannot swim, but the challenge is so tempting. For so long she has gone without taking risks, without having the rush of jumping into the unknown.  She has not truely been living.  So she pushes off the sandy floor, outward and into the ocean, leaving a trail of dust behind her.  As the ocean takes her, the dust settles, erasing the last trace of her existence.  She is now the ocean. The ocean is now her.
 

-Henry B