nightswimming

The silk and satin shimmer of the sea met the dark horizon. The full moon washed it all in a palette of indigos on the edge of black with glowing white water.

I sat in the sand facing the sea. Behind me the empty beach stretched hundreds of yards to a hill topped by Nuevo Lobitos. Lights were few and nothing that could detract or diminish the stars in the sky.

In front of me two sets of footsteps vanished into the sea. Peter and Melissa had gone. I saw their dark wetsuits rise in what my eyes would otherwise never know was the tide. They were dots on an iridescent and restless surface. Now and then they were lifted in a moondance on their boards.

I had told them to go in without me. I wanted the beautiful silence to think. But now I was alone on shore. Stepping into the ocean like this, alone, in the dark was terrifying.

Trusting that I can swim, trusting that below the surface there is nothing that would hurt me, trusting that I am safe.

I stood, left my cover, took a breath then ran at a sprint into the breaking cold tide, swimming strong and straight till I could no longer touch the floor.

I used to run the stairs to escape my fear in the depths of the basement.

The sea is so much more comforting than a basement.

Even in the absence of the familiar lighthouses, lobster shacks and hotels - it was still the sea and I was still in love.

I laughed as the ghostly waves pounded in on me. Peruvian tide is relentless, beautiful and free. Where was everyone? How could this opportunity be left for only me?

I swam alone, and lived to savor how wonderful it was...