The Water

By Amelia Blackburn

Early in the morning, I silently got out of bed and rode my bike down the street. I stepped off of my bike when I saw a sign saying Public Beach Access, and locked it up where a group of seagulls were squawking noisily. My tired legs limped down the rocky steps to the beach that was so familiar to me, and I thought of her. The warm, wet sand squished beneath my feet as I walked by the sea. Suddenly, my feet were knocked out from beneath me and my limp body fell into the water. The currents tore at my clothes as I struggled to get free. I stopped fighting the waves and looked down beneath me. The strong currents seemed to stop abruptly, as if they were frozen. My eyes shut and I dove down, deeper than I had ever gone, to see what was in store for me.
When I got home, I took a warm shower and crawled under my cozy sheets. I tossed and turned in my bed, wondering what had happened to my dear friend. I thought back to the day I dragged her out of the cold water. She had been so full of life until then. Now she lets the waves in her life pass her, without struggling to break free of them. The difference between us is that she stopped fighting out of exhaustion. I stop fighting out of curiosity and wonder. I wanted to find new, mysterious waves. Maybe that was what happened to us. I remembered how I saw her thrashing against the currents, not stopping until I swam to save her. I guess that pulled the fight out of her. Maybe that’s what happened to us. Whatever had happened in that water, she never recovered from it.