breathe.

When I was eleven and on my yearly family vacation trip in Florida, I experienced my second near drowning incident. I sat on a giant yellow surfboard and gazed out on the water. As I floated out, I could feel the warmth of the sun radiating on my back, the cool gulf water soothing my legs, and the salty wind brushing against my body. With ease I took in the beauty around me. Although it was not clear, the sky still emitted enough sunlight to force me to squint my eyes. The glare hit every crest in the gulf. Lost in my transfixion, it never occurred to me that I might not make my way back.

I'm not sure how long it took me to notice where I was until I was already too far. At some point, I looked up from my daze and turned back only to see the big far stretching gap of open water between myself and everyone. Holding back my instant desire to panic, I reminded myself I could paddle in shore. However, when I stroked my hands through the water, I only seemed to be pulled further out. With my heart beginning to race, I started to move my hands and arms faster but my effort was useless. I could feel my strength dwindle as the water allowed my hands to pass without being disturbed. I threw my arms in the air and began to yell. Holding my breath, my eyes quickly scanned the shore, waiting to see if anyone heard my voice and sensed my urgency. No one looked up. I wailed and screamed repeatedly. Everyone on the shore went about their lovely relaxing day at the beach; the only thing my voice seemed to bother was the water beneath the surfboard. Waves started to roll in, each one stronger than the last. Like someone riding a bull at a rodeo, I fought to stay on the only thing between me and the water. The waves rocked me left to right while splashing the dense salty liquid in my eyes. My fingers gripped the board but the water persisted. Eventually I flipped off. 

I was swallowed by the gulf. My arms and legs struggled to push me to the surface for air. I gasped in the oxygen just in time for the next wave in line to topple over my head, pushing and pulling me back under. I held my breath but even that could not stop the overwhelming salt taste and smell that came in from my nose. Again, I made my way to the surface; this time I attempted to thrash my arms in the air and scream. I am not sure if any form of vocalization was even made before I was pulled beneath and further into the abyss. My lungs felt as if they were burning, deflating like a balloon with a tiny hole. The strong currents hit my body and continued to pull every limb in a different direction.  

I wish I could explain the chaos running frantically through my mind, but I am not  sure if the mess was even logical thoughts. It was more like my entire mind and body had been taken over by fright, frozen with no control. I'm not sure for how long, but the process of struggling for oxygen continued. My arms and legs pushed on the water hoping it would serve as a lever. My head broke the surface and before my mouth had even reached air, the air I so desperately needed, I inhaled. The pungent water invaded my mouth and throat. The salt scraped along the inner lining of my cheeks. I don't think I have ever fought so hard in my life just to cough. My body was losing its fight against the entire Gulf of Mexico.