The Earthling

I stood at the height of the sand, looking down at the waves as they came in. Behind me, the lifeguard's tower held up a yellow sign, with a black circle in the center. No surfing, the symbol signed. Undertow. The surfers called it being black balled, hating the guards for keeping them at bay. I stood there in the afternoon sun, children and families swirling about me. And yet in that moment, I counted myself alone.

There was an onshore wind flattening the waves and blowing in my face, but the currents continued to swell and batter the shore just the same. A girl no more than eight had pulled a rope of bull kelp from the shore, probably dislodged from some underwater forest far away, and swung it about her like a whip, keeping her boyish mate in tow, they playing tug-o-war, or she slapping the waves in her glee. The two of them danced and hopped over the shallows, running into the water and retreating just as quickly. In my mind, I thought up little poems and lines about the girl with the bull whip of bull kelp, slaughtering the sea with its currency.

The sun was hot on my bare shoulders and, as I had come ill-prepared, they began to redden and burn. I pulled off my tank top and walked down the little hill toward the Pacific. Her foam kissed my toes and sent a shiver up my spine. It made me pause half a second, just a touch fearful of the cold. It's a wonder the things we become afraid of as we tramp off into the all-powerful ocean. I kept walking, ankle-deep, now calves immersed, now up to my knees. Every few moments, another wave would come tumbling toward me and I, like a deer in the headlights, had to give pause until it roiled past me.

Once knee-height, I bent forward and grabbed great scoops of sea water, splashing my chest and shivering in the sun. O sea, how I missed thee! Now came a taller wave, not yet broken, not yet succumbing to that on-shore wind. I peered at her, put my right foot back and dove into her foam, feeling engulfed in her weight and letting her roll over my back. All the time, my eyes were shut tight, my legs dolphin-kicking like a true swimmer until I emerged, unscathed.

I looked back and noted the shore's distance. Who needed the old earth, I said to myself, when we have the sea to comfort us. I turned and saw the next wave coming. Planting my feet, I gave her my back and she spread her arms around me, pushing me half a step forward. O sea, how I love thee! Now swimming for my worth, I dove through wave after wave, resting just before her depths were too much for my height to reach sandy bottom. Gasping for air, my lips tasting of salt, I heaved great gasps, calming myself into the rhythm of the waves. I gave the earth one last glance, breathed deeply again, and kept swimming toward the sun.

And that, my neighbors, is how I came to Atlantis.