I have had to take a breath.

I am not sure if I am ready.

The few days back in the world I have had are not un-normal, they are just seen through different lenses.  To be honest, there is no way that I feel entirely comfortable writing about what I hold inside as my fears...

Imagine an eleven year old that finds himself, doing homework, toiling away at night under a warm goose-neck lamp.  At the desk in his room, he does not know that the three hours he spends with the books, the numbers, the words, is far more than his classmates would ever imagine spending themselves. 

In the light of day, away from school work, he finds that he enjoys walking, exploring the streams and creekbeds, hopping from rock to rock. Always looking for the minnows and crayfish, observing the occasional snake swimming, turtles sunning, and water-striders skimming across the surface of eddys and pools.  Books are forgotten, the speckled sunlight filtering through the leaves above and the burble of the passing water below is fully engrossing. 

These places are where he keeps his feet dry; where he feels different, sometimes lighter.  The seemingly ankle deep water he trudges through nearly everywhere else he doesn't much notice anymore.  He is to shy to ask if anyone else feels a little annoyed at how the weight of the water slows them down.  Perhaps it is only me, he thinks. 

College, and he finds that he has many interests, and indulges in some and dabbles in others.  The water is rarely noticed, though when he does, it is waist deep.  He has learned to leap along, up and down staircases on his way to class or to work. He is fast and strong and agile, very different from his grade school years; yet still takes the time to lose himself in the woods, walking for hours, sitting on a rock, waiting for nothing more than the sounds, and smells and textures of light and earth that surrounds him.

Work, for years, so many things, so many places, and the water stays shin deep.  It is rarely even noticed; and with the speed and skill with which he has learned to travel you would never know there was a current about his feet. 

Now, having fallen overboard, (or did he jump?) he has never seen deeper waters, and all that he had learned to deal with in wading for all of these years does not prepare him.  Yes, he knows how to swim, as there were hours alone that he has found to swim, even to tread water takes little effort.  But it turns dark, and the waves are tiring, nothing like a swimming pool.  Treading water, arms and legs and mind swirling in the dark water, he cannot see land.  Land could be in any direction, he does not think of the stars, never looks up, as the waves bob him up and down.  What will happen when he gets tired, is unable to think, unable to fight the temptation to stop treading water.  He makes his peace, says his quiet and unheard good-byes to friends and family, yet he treads and paddles.  He surprises himself as he stops, he asks for help, out loud.  Cold and tired and nearly drained, he feels strong hands around his arms as he is pulled out of the water...

Reminded of Captains Courageous as he has little chance to contact the outside world, aboard a ship, safe, far from shore or anyone that knows him.  He must resign himself, keep busy, and becomes a part of the crew.  He lives awhile on the sea, constantly reminded of the water that once held him, thankful for his luck, and hopes that he will never have to feel that sense of alone ever again. 

- M/O