03.23.2013 - 03.23.2013
The bow pointed like a finger poking heaven. Always the same sense of peace in a boat headed home to friendly lights at night. It beats you into a frothy, ephemeral happiness.
In the inky cave your nervous laughter was excitement, not fear, as you watched the sparks dance beneath you--a quiet, humble, anonymous celebration. It occurred to you that nothing was recording this but your brain, and you regretted its faulty construction. How will you keep this one? Or that other cave, the light blotted out by a wall of fish so immense it gave you chills? Will you remember the blue and its finned army, fit to take your breath away? (All the same, you went quickly as the swell sloshed you around the narrowing cavern.)
Chris saw more because he had less fear, but you must not begin to regret what you didn't see, lest the disappointment overwhelm your wonder. You can only hope for a next time when you're stronger.