Great White Mystery

I respected my father. He was a man born with a heart yearning after the sea. My grandfather, his father, crafted boats by hand during his youth. Hence, my father was not only a skilled sailor, but he also became a trained carpenter as a living. He was great with home repairs too, teaching us that the most ''neglected pieces or creatures'' of history were treasures waiting to be appreciated.

My fishing hat flew off my head and would've had its own adventure in the ocean if it weren't for the string around my neck. I admire my father's handy work orchestrating the sail to keep us on course. His buddy soon manages the rest.

My father is a buff man, and unbuttons his shirt to let the breeze in. The reddening skin at his neck indicates he's been out in the sun for way too long. He notices me watching, and walks over. He swings an arm around me and pulls my body against his for a side hug. The large grin on his face was evident enough he was having the time of his life.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, little Nemo!" he calls out.

Little Nemo was an endearing nickname he gave me since I was really little. I was the youngest of my three brothers and sister, although my parents told me my boldness made up for my size. I roll down my sleeves to protect my skin from the sun's rays.

"Do about what, dad?" I ask.

My father inhales the smell of a salty ocean and gives my arm a final sturdy pat. His brown eyes stare into mine.

"Year after year, your brothers and sister have slowly lost interest in sailing the seas with me. You're my last chance, kid!" He sounds serious and I try to reflect his expression.

I turn and laugh to see his mouth turn upward with another smile. He slaps his hand on the rail. "I'm not here to force you into a career you aren't suited for. Whether you grow up to become a man of the sea, study zoology, or take a boring old desk job like your brothers," he flashes me a wink at that last part.

"I will love each and every one of you, you are my sons, my daughters," his sentiment made me emotional when he finishes peering out at the vast sky. He steps out too fast and the limp on his left leg becomes more noticeable. I wince.

"Was that the doing of the Great White Mystery?" I ask.

The question must have hit a sensitive nerve, because my father's look toward me is brooding. "Now who told you that?"

"St-step mom did," I stutter out nervously. "You never told me why you limp...I'm sorry,"

My father sighs, easing up on me with his stare. "It's okay, Little Nemo. Your step-mom has never come to appreciate ocean creatures as much as your mom did,"

The somber mood makes me fidget. My other siblings always said I was too little to comprehend my mother's death, but it still affected my upbringing. "I want to be a biologist. I just don't want to study sharks, they scare me!" I admit.

My father chuckles and shakes his head, "I knew it was a bad idea allowing you to watch Jaws."

"Sharks hurt people. They're monsters." I blurt out stubbornly.

My father is surprisingly open to hearing my stance, although he loved sharks, especially as they were endangered for extinction. He strokes his chin. "Films are good at making anything or anyone look like a monster when they need it to," he mentions. "And I think it's a good idea to tell you now it was the Great Barracuda that injured my left leg; it wasn't a shark."

I scrunch my forehead, "Okay... so maybe you know more than me, but I also want to think for myself," I say.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," my father encourages me and approaches. We both lean on the side rail, admiring the scenery. "Truth be told, I wanted to take you out to see the Great White Mystery, until you caught on and learned about the Great White Shark." He teases.

I grip the rail with uneasiness, "It'd be cool to see a shark. I just don't know why you like them so much. Step-mom says you're a daredevil."

"I like adventure, kid! She and nobody else can change that," my father goes on, glancing between me and the sea. "But with the endangerment of sharks and the misuse of information out there, it's hard to be heard on why this is so important to not just me - but other creatures out there."

"I get it," I shrug.

My father says after a momentary pause, "Hey, Little Nemo. What do you think of when you hear the word 'activist'?"

His question catches me off guard, yet I reflect on it. "I suppose an activist makes me think of someone who is way too passionate about something,"

"Huh," my father nods thoughtfully.

His vague response bothers me, "What is it?" I ask curiously.

My father answers, "I finally figured out why others call me too passionate. I was young once too, and it took some experience for me to realize I wasn't passionate enough for a cause."

I glance down at my shoes. "Are you...disappointed in me?"

My father is shocked by my question, and quickly pats my shoulder to reassure me. "You could never disappoint me!" He says. "I appreciate your honesty. I'd rather have you tell me what you believe than lie to try and make me feel better."

"I don't want sharks or any of the animals to go extinct, and I still think what you do is super cool, dad! I just don't know if it's something I'd be brave enough to do!" I state.

I feel the restriction in my chest fade as the warmth from his smile is contagious. His face lit up. He pats my arm again. "I'm glad you feel that way, kid! Does that mean you'll go on an outing with me next year?"

"Of course," I chuckle. "Maybe one day I'll be brave enough and ask you to show me the Great White Mystery!"

"One day," My father notes. He gives me another wink and then his hand slips away from me to check on the sails.

Deep down, I admired my father for being so passionate about a cause. Maybe sharks were like any other piece or creature out there. All neglected pieces and creatures of history deserve recognition and appreciation. And thanks to my father, I came to appreciate that beauty regardless what profession I got into.

One day, I'd come to better understand my father's growing knowledge of Hammerheads and the Great White Mystery.