09 Jul 2015 5 Comments
Hello fishy friends,
Thank you for always being so kind and allowing me to share with you. I hope you enjoy this short ocean tale penned by a very humbled and grateful mermaid.
“Human Giant Angel Mermaid”
By Carlene Love
There comes a point when I know I’ve been pulled too far away.
It hits me. And the moment it does, I want to cry because I know in that second I am simply not strong enough to stay above the water, although I also know I will live every last drop, trying and fighting.
There are two times when I am thrust above the surface and can see him in the distance. I stop fighting, and try to be still. I want a clear vision of the last person I will ever see on this earth. But when I am still, he is somehow more instinctive to try and surge out toward me.
That cannot happen.
I hear him holler as I stare out at him and realize it is because I have stopped moving.
So, I fight, desperate to make my way. Somehow, because I know I am not supposed to be giving up, I fight and slap my arms at the water, trying to find something to hold onto and propel me back toward the shore. I point my toes in an attempt to make them watertight but they are so small and not designed to succeed in this element. When I do this, fight and flail in this way, he grows still. I am so tired, I ache to be still too. Again I become motionless and bob because keeping up with the relentless force and violence of the ocean right now is beyond me. It is my turn and I rest. But as I do this, I see him burst into motion, taking it as some cue that he must be the one to try and make his way to me since I am not making mine to him.
I realize in that moment that the last thing I will do for the last person I will ever see is fight. To keep him where he is safe. I put together the theory that when he sees me fighting, he believes I am making my way back to safety. That my motion signals I am still able to do this. There is still hope. I have not given up. And somehow seeing me fight to swim keeps him from foolishly trying to get to me. My fighting is his peace.
It is one of, no, it is the singular hardest thing I have ever had to do. The most taxing, painful and impossible thing I have ever done in my life. To fight this ocean, I would need to be every giant in existence combined and I am merely a five foot two, one hundred twenty pound toy at the whim of the violent beauty surrounding me right now. My breaths are numbered. My muscle movement will soon fail me. But I fight because it keeps him safe enough, although I wish he weren’t waist deep in the tormenting water, where he is jumping up and down and hollering for help from the lifeguard who I am sure is running to the remote section of beach where we should not have been.
He will arrive too late. My only hope is that once I am no longer one of the two things I’ve been these last five minutes—flailing arms or a calm bobbing torso, once I am simply gone, pulled under, that he will accept this and stay safe. For one second I think I see red in the distance and hope it is the lifeguard towing a waverunner or something of the sort, come to save me. I might be recovering in a few days, and in a few decades down the road, be telling my future grandchildren why they should always heed the posted warnings at the beach. The thought makes me close my eyes and ask for the thought back, because I know I’d rather they be rule breakers. I might be failing at the risk I’ve taken today, but they might meet it and be successful, in their time, on their day.
That red thing I saw could have been anything. More than likely it was something floating below the surface because that is where I am now. I know the lifeguard would not have made a difference. This jumping and hollering man is one of those giants with what seems like more brick than bone. And even his strong, strong grip could not keep me. The ocean wanted me. It had beaten a giant for me and it had won. Stolen me right from his grasp.
It is not clear how long I’ve been breathing water rather than air.
It is not clear where I have left things with everything back on land.
It is only clear that it is time for me to bow out graciously and be aware of my last conscious thought, hoping for less pain and perhaps a beautiful ascension. Why not dream this is how it will end? I have earned this last right to believe and be positive. With calm on my mind, I remember that day. The one that brought me to my own front door, hoping to reconcile all the pieces of me I’d let scatter over the years and become less of a stranger to myself.
“How do you expect anything in your life to change if you do not take responsibility and action to make it happen?” I was asked that day.
For the next two years, I lived and breathed those twenty two words.
And then fear overrides the lovely feeling I have conjured for this final moment because I remember, this man is an action person. He will not stay where it is safe.
I still one last time.
And then I become a permanent piece of the ocean.
I change knowing he has not stayed on that shore where it was safe. He has not waited for help. He is instead refusing to accept that he cannot have me back from the violent waters we endeavored to enter. He is headed for the same fate. He is swimming and fighting and going too far out.
Seconds later, I am given my first mission, amazed at how fast I have transformed from flailing, dying human being to angelic, protective energy force.
My mission is born.
I must save this giant right now. The human brain lacks the complete capacity to embrace things like angels and miracles but I become acutely aware that I no longer suffer from this inability. I must save him because he belongs here and he is needed by many. He is chaos just as surely as he is balance.
Right now, I see him from above. His ability to be selfless at a time when that should be impossible astounds me. Yet here he is, signaling and swimming out to where my body was last seen bobbing, and he has the lifeguard with him.
My only consolation is that I know he is not alone in this devastating body of water.
He has the lifeguard and he has me.
“You know what you must do?” I am asked.
He can’t die. If he dies, then she dies. If she dies then her future daughter—their future daughter—dies, then my son dies. If my son dies, my grandchildren never exist and if that happens, I am not a person of action and there are too few rule breakers in this world that is so in need of them. And if I am not a person of action, then I will have broken my promise. In all my years, I have never broken a promise. I don’t plan to start now.
I dive from the sky into the most beautiful place on earth, making a vast splash. I feel like a giant. My wings are wet. My fins are strong. He is still breathing.