Just A Swimmin' In the Ocean

Have you ever seen the sunrise from under the water? It's pretty cool, you know...when I'm awake to see it. The current of the ocean sways and grabs the tendrils of sunlight, pulling them down in rainbowed bands of gold and pink and orange. It looks like mermaid's hair threaded through the first couple feet of water.

Truly beautiful. You should try to see it if you can be up early enough. 10/10 would recommend.

This particular morning I am the first awake, this practically never happens. Normally, the reef is buzzing with actively. The clownfish are grooming themselves against the stinging tongues of the anemones. The manta rays patrol the airways as they gracefully flap their massive wings. Banded pipes flip and flutter about. Blue and yellow tangs bright colors outshine even that of the coral. Or at least that which hasn't become bleached and drained of all color.

But on this particular morning, I'm the only one out. I silently swim over the the reef, peeking between the coral structures and between the blades of grass to see if there is any movement, but it would appear that I've beaten the crowd completely today.

I don't mind too much. It's almost better this way. Everyone swims away in either fear or apprehension, no one wants to be in my way or get too close. No one is truly friendly to the unknown, so I suppose I can't really blame them.

The water silently slides along my body as I slowly weave through the current. The morning is so quiet. I have almost forgotten what the ocean is like when all the life is still sleeping.

I am yanked from my revere when I spot a black figure in the distance. It's a bit bulky in the middle and has four long thin fins with big flippers on it's bottom ones.

I've never seen anything like it before.

My initial instinct is to turn around and head in the opposite direction, but isn't that the same thing that I so strongly dislike from all of those around me?

But the what if lingers in the forefront of my mind. I suddenly understand why everyone swims away from me. It is completely terrifying not knowing what will happen.

The beams of sun rays are growing thicker. The sun rise will no longer be around soon and the stranger is in the perfect spot, just past the coral reef and hovering over the drop off.

With a deep breath and only a moment's more hesitation, I proceed forward, cautiously until I am hovering just next to the stranger.

Up close, they are much smaller than I thought they would be. Their tiny head could fit in my mouth. Far less frightening up close. It doesn't even look like it has teeth.

We have a stare down of sorts, I can smell their terror at my proximity, but to my surprise, they don't swim away. They stay almost completely still. I wonder if they know that I can still see them even when they don't move. I don't make any sudden movements, I don't want to scare them away.

It isn't often that I get to watch the sun rise with someone. Or do anything with anyone.

It feels like an eternity before they finally make the first move, raising on of their long thin appendages. It vaguely reminds me of an octopus tentacle but rigid and lifeless as if they have very little control over.

And to my complete and utter surprise, the end of that strange fin / appendage / tentacle lands tenderly on my snout. The softest of taps, a boop if you will. It almost tickles if I'm honest, but it's the first time someone has ever tried getting this close to me and I'm so truly enamored that I dare not move incase they change their mind.

This kind stranger stays with me for the morning and even throughout the day. I've never had so much attention before. I wish there was a way to thank them for their kindness.

To let them know that they are my new friend.