Water Dance

The ocean welcomes me with its peaceful, soft sand. The curling water waves at me as if to say “Come here! Here!” I come, smiling as the ocean sighs, retreating back. The cool misty air brushes my cheek. 1

I find myself dancing as I move along the shore, the subtle taste of a salty breeze on my tongue. The beach is empty, the ocean performing for me. Just me. The waves glide in and out, playing with me. When I get closer, the cold water tickles my toes. In, and out, the water dances, always delighting me with its grand crashes.2

I leap. Just like the crashing waves, I explode in an extravagant grande jeté. But just as I land, the water arrives around me. It sweeps me up, taking me with it in a swirling salty mess. I swim up, and the water that tugs at me loosens its grip. I gasp for air, coughing out salty water. The ocean sighs. It gently sets me back on the dry shore, saying, “Welcome home”. I smile.3

Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, I turn and look down. A small white crab crawls toward me. It sees me and stops, to watch us I think. The water licks my toes, nudging me to stand. I stand, and curtsy “Hello”. Slowly I extend my back leg high into the air, bending forward with my nose to my knee. I stand here, with my eyes closed, as the frothy water surrounds my ankle. It rises to my knee, and then swirls back out. I lower my leg, performing for my sea a sequence of turns and small jumps. The ocean is happy. It dances too, in and out.4

Before long, I am tired. I sit down in the sand, facing the sea. It still crashes in the distance, bubbling near my toes. In and out, in and out. The small white crab crawls past me, and far away, leaving a small trail of tiny marks. I stand up to leave, the sun has gone down. The ocean kisses my toes once more, and I curtsy “Goodbye”. Our dance together is over. But only for today.5