Lagoons and Pontoons

I remember lying on the warm golden sand gazing longingly across the lagoon at the other island. Lying on a beach in paradise and daydreaming as if it had been any other mundane day which it was for from, I just couldn’t help myself. But this time was different. I felt a mixture of excitement and dread and I knew that’s what would make the challenge so special. Tracing my fingers through the sand surrounding me In anticipation, I wondered about how I would feel once I made it to the other side carefully observing the short distance between the two. How long would that take to swim? Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen!? I really had no idea. Every time I attempted to time one of my fellow holiday goers I’d get distracted or simply lose them as they swam further into the distance, dipping in and out between the small ripples of white appearing from the opening mouth of the lagoon and frowned. I watched the tourists go about their day exploring. The brave ones peered down from the tops of the high peaks they had climbed to the sea below while others strolled across the beach content with their achievement and immediate surroundings.

I have never enjoyed open water much, but the promise of crossing crystal clear water with my partner by my side eased my nerves. As a teenager, I had enjoyed the adrenaline rush of jumping from the harbour peer alongside like-minded friends. But I hated more than I loved. I resented how the cold temperature of the water distorted the texture of my skin, raising little bumps all across my face as my teeth chattered. I disliked when the saltwater nipped at my eyes or how every so often I’d misjudge the best time to inhale catching a wave, creating a burning sensation in my throat. Or how the water bubbled up my nose in the aftermath as I coughed and spluttered gasping for a clean breath. But what I hated and feared most of all was the darkness of the discoloured water surrounding me never knowing what might be lurking below, ready to take a nibble if the moment presented itself. Or the rising anxiety I felt from fear of tangling in the seaweed, struggling to free myself and break back to the surface. But the one thing I loved and craved the most, the thing that made it all worth it was the growing sensation I’d feel in the pit of my stomach as I ran from one end of the pier to the other embracing the rush gifted to me by the plunge. The mix of excitement and panic as I throw myself from solid ground enjoying the freefall. I enjoyed the opportunity to find something new, even the simple things easily overlooked. I recalled how the sunlight looked dancing through the cracks in the planks lighting up and manipulating the colours of the water in the shallows below the platoon. I stood with my feet rooted into sinking sand drinking in the newfound colours hidden from the fishermen who walked above first at the crack of dawn and again as the sunset In the evenings through rain, sun and winds to provide for their families never knowing the beauty below there feet.

‘Are you daydreaming again!?’ my partner quizzed.

‘Shit, yeah sorry guess I was... Let’s do this before I change my mind.’ I answered quickly jumping up from my beach towel roughly wiping the sand from body.

I breathed deep as the waves danced playfully between my toes where the sand met the sea as I readied myself.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Go!