Water, But No Fish

It took lots of fortitude to write before I fell into bed last night. Here it is, such as it is:

It was like dreaming. The water was so clear it was invisible. I felt the bump of wavelets as they passed under the kayak. The splashes from my far-from-expert paddling cooled my face. But I couldn't really see it, especially if I looked down toward the bottom twenty feet below. Gazing toward the horizon, the water became turquoise then navy as it fell away to the abyss but right where I was, right over the bright white sand and patchy reefs, it was clear, invisible. For a moment vertigo gripped me before the voice in my head kicked in to remind me that there was water under my hull, nice dense sea water, warm and salty, just like my tears.

And it's raining as I type this. A good day to pile up on the couch with a notebook and cup of tea. Yeah, like that'll happen.

--Barbara