I was told that I had visited the ocean before. It was only once, and I was much younger. I really wish I had been able to remember that experience because it would have saved me much embarrassment, not only at the time of the “violation” but for the many years to come. I must go back to the summer of 2005, the summer the ocean rejected me.
The summer of 2005 my husband and I took our three boys to Parsippany, New Jersey, the place where my father began a new life after an old marriage. With the kids excited to see PaPa Al, we began our visit. It didn’t take long to hear those famous words, “I’m bored.” come from my children. It was mid-July and the summer’s sun seemed to heat up my Dad’s small cottage home like a microwave oven and we were a snack-sized bag of popcorn inside, being popped open and bouncing off of each other. In order to survive, we needed an escape. It would be my longing to visit the ocean, and the hope of escaping the heat, that would set the longevity of my story into motion. So with the hope of cooling off with a dip in the “monster”, aka, ocean, we were off.
Growing up in Chautauqua County seems to have graced me with naiveness in geographic matters. Because after 15 minutes into our journey to the beach, it became apparent that our water paradise was not simply around the corner. After 45 minutes into our drive to the beach, it became even more apparent that 7 people cannot fit into a Chevy Malibu. As anxious as I was to escape the tightness of the vehicle, later in the day I would be even more anxious to get back into its tight embrace.
When finally were able to see the beach I immediately noticed the sea of bodies strewn around the sand. I was amazed that there would be any room for my rowdy gang of merry men and myself, but there was. Even more amazing then our ability to secure a spot on the beach was the beaches ability to charge us for admittance. Hadn’t God graced us all with oceans, seas, lakes, rivers, creeks, streams and even mud puddles? My father anted up and off we were to finally experience the greatness of the ocean.
I quickly spread our blanket on the sand, which may I mention wasn’t white at all but more of a whitish tan, not at all what they show on all the tourism commercials. With our camp staked out, we shed our human clothing for the beach ware of the ocean. My children in their cute Old Navy swimming trunks, my husband looking dashing in his tropical island print board shorts and I in my tankini “moo moo”, all ran down to the water’s edge to finally free ourselves of the heat which had enslaved us for most of the day. As we stuck our piggies into the water I began to have visions of Bill Nye the Science Guy, episode 20, the one about density and buoyancy. I began to remember that salt water makes anything more buoyant. As I allowed this idea of buoyancy to take over my brain, I began to lose touch with reality. I began to see myself in my “moo moo” tankini, graceful and elegantly floating upon the waters of Mother Earth. What a beautiful mind movie I had made for myself. The problem was, this mind movie should have stayed just that, a mind movie.
As the idea crept into my mind, waves began to creep on to shore. I should have noticed this change in the water but my focus was only on one thing, buoyancy. As I entered the water I began to wonder how far I would have to go out to achieve this “free floating” that I was sure would be a wonderful experience. I decided to give it a try as the water reached my waist. I lifted my legs up off the ocean floor and found myself sinking back into the water. I needed to be further out.
I wish I would have noticed the waves growing larger in size, but the only thing I was seeing grow was my unwavering determination to test out Bill Nye’s science experiment. I paddled further out, trying not to think of the movie “Jaws”, which for me is pretty hard considering I am scared to death of anything with a dorsal fin that can eat a man in one bite. It was once the water reached the middle of my belly that I began to feel I had finally reached the “sweet spot”. As my body began to lift onto the surface of the ocean, visions of my mind movie swept into my thoughts. I was envisioning myself gracefully floating along the gentle patterns of the ocean. I was free. Unfortunately, the thoughts were not to be the only thing that would sweep in.
In my attempt to find buoyancy, I found rejection. The force that I felt lifting me onto the surface was actually a wall of water, sent by Neptune to forcefully evict me from its domain. In all actuality, I had I became caught up in an undertow. The impact of the wave was quick. It swept my body onto the ocean’s edge, leaving me flaying with panic and confusion.
The rejection I felt from Neptune and his brother, Poseidon was not only scary - it was embarrassing! It seems that after being caught in the undertow I was deposited onto a beach full of onlookers. My mind movie became a skit, a show for all of those witnessed the wave growing larger, nearing a unknowing dreamer, swallowing her into its belly and spitting her back out with disgust. The climax of this skit would be my flaying body, full of sand and seaweed, sprawled out on the beach gasping for air. My tankini no longer contained the parts in which it was made for. There I was, in all my glory, lying on the beach for all to see. When I was finally able to focus my eyes, my husband came into view. He was standing over me, urging me to get up. After a few minutes of me pleading for help, I found my bearings and took in my surroundings. Until that moment I was certain I was still in water, drowning and in need of rescue. I immediately stood up, taking in what had just happened to me, I was rejected by the sea. Like a child biting into a sour lemon, I was spat out.
Later that day, I was finally able to wash the aftermath of the day’s events. I was left with at least 2 cups of good ole’ Jersey sand, it wasn’t white, and it wasn’t pretty. It was a reminder of all that I had hoped for of that day and the disappointment it had become. The full impact of what could have happened to me that day hadn’t sunk into my brain; I could have been dragged out to sea instead of deposited safely onto the beach. I am now grateful for the warning, and appreciate the strength and beauty the ocean holds.
It has been six years since I was violated by the furry of the ocean. I am no longer a fan of Bill Nye the science guy and I leave all experiments to the professionals. I have been to the ocean since, simply as a spectator not a participant. I did manage to gain enough courage to dip my piggies into the water, but no further than my ankle did I dare go. Although I am weary of shaking hands with the water gods again again, I know that one day I will have to overcome that fear. Since that day in July, the story of my “tangle with the ocean” is one that has been told over and over, and I’m sure it will continue to be shared for many years to come. I envision my grandchildren sitting on my husband’s lap, being told of the day their grandmother danced with Neptune and his brother, Poseidon and I will smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment