We play high point/low point in our family—listing our highs and lows from the day to each other before going to bed. Snorkeling is a highpoint. I love to see the coral and fish and seaweed and white sand with the sun shining clear through the aqua water. I also love watching my children transform into little fish as they flutter on the surface like oceanographers searching for new plankton.
Snorkeling has given Maddi a new nickname. Molasses Maddi, as she is endearingly called on land turns into Minnow Maddi in the water. I can barely keep up as she zips around as if she’s trying to stay away from the mouth of a big fish.
The colors underwater are vibrant—powder blue and mint green fish swimming next to the ones I call bumble bees and zebras each painted with exotic stripes. I remind myself to be calm, breathing slow and deep instead of my normal short pants for air—an obvious sign that the ocean’s vastness scares me. I have a hard time relaxing when I see huge drop offs of nothingness, fearing the sea will gulp me up.
This country is good for me. I’m in love with the warm blankets of sun that cover me from dawn till dusk. And the pace of life that says, there’s always tomorrow.
