Your heart,
It is about to
burst.
Water.
No big deal – you are told.
But water, it’s not dark. It’s not murky. It’s not loud.
It’s not like that.
You get a little push of assurance,
Your baby feet tracked in the sand.
Maybe your last.

Your eyes widen in curiosity,
Your legs shaking in fear,
What’s this new discovery?
It goes on forever and ever.
What if you get lost?

You stumble closer,
A thin layer of the foamy water
chases you. Then it withdraws
Your mind is racing,
Maybe. Just maybe. It’s not evil.

You gather your courage and place your foot in the water.
It makes a splash.
You’re startled. You fall back.
You freeze, braced for what might be next.
But nothing happens. You let out a little scream of joy.
Your feet run in the water, splashing all over.

You’re braver now.
You go farther out, you’re knee high now. Waves pushing you back.
But a strong little baby like you, is going to need a bigger wave to
knock you down.
It’s even tempting to go farther. Test yourself.

All of a sudden, your leg is dragging something
A green
thing.
Your little heart becomes fast-paced again.
Your gaze locks on the green thing.

Then, another catches onto your other leg.
They’re attacking. You run, letting out agonizing little squeals.
Unwelcoming waves hit you, pushing you out.
Your feet hit the sand.
The powdery surface sticks to your little baby feet.
You don’t like that. Your feelings of cautiousness and hatred return.
Now, you are all the way back at the beginning. You take a deep breath.
You’re a smart baby; the ocean isn’t going to get you next time.