Amelia and the End of the World

You'd think that sand would be a bit of an obstacle for somebody who used forearm crutches to get around. You'd think, and you wouldn't be entirely wrong; it wasn't easy, but with a little help and some careful maneuvering, Amelia found a way. In all honesty, it probably never felt that difficult to her.

Amelia had lived by the beach ever since she was born. All she had to do was brave a few steps down the porch, a quick trip through the manageably-inconvenient sand, and crutches were no longer an issue.

Osteoporosis that had set in when she was six (an unwelcome result of celiac disease that she'd been diagnosed with when she was even younger) left her with fragile bones and a difficulty with walking. The pressure on her ankles made most movement on land uncomfortable. Swimming, however, was another story entirely.

With the pressure off her legs, Amelia was free to move in ways she couldn't otherwise do without hurting herself. A whole new world suddenly opened up to her. And the thing was, if she hadn't been disabled, if she didn't have trouble walking compared to most people, if her doctor hadn't suggested swimming for exercise, she might never have discovered it. And if she hadn't discovered it, she would have missed out on what would later become the most important part of her life.

When she was seven, Amelia took a few weeks' worth of swimming lessons. Although she was nervous at first, it turned out to be surprisingly easy. Soon she felt confident enough to wade in the ocean, and then to swim, and even to dive a few feet below and be lifted up again on the crest of a wave. She was always perfectly safe—the waves were mild because their coastline was so sheltered—and after a while swimming just became a habit.

Whenever her joints hurt, she would wade out a few yards and then just lie back, letting the sea cradle her and the soothing rhythm of the waves rock her, like a baby in a bassinet who never had to walk anywhere. She couldn't remember feeling better.

One day, her parents decided to have a garage sale. In a box marked "$8 each", Amelia found her dad's old mask and snorkel. No one had expressed any interest yet, so she asked if she could have them. Her dad shrugged out a "Sure", and from then on the new world that had recently opened up to her—the ocean—suddenly gained a whole new dimension.

Maybe a hundred feet or so from the shore was a small coral reef, undisturbed and technically on part of their private property. There were colonies of sand dollars, clams and scallops clustered across the sandy floor; mounds of coral skeletons only a couple of yards below the surface bearing various anemones and sea plants that were home to countless glittering scaled creatures. The whole thing was a tiny little ecosystem; one that Amelia never could have imagined. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

From then on she visited the reef often. Nearly every day, in fact. Every day when she got home from school, she'd hurry inside and swap her school clothes for a swimsuit. She'd grab her mask and snorkel on the way out, and then rush out to the shore, leaving her crutches behind halfway out onto the beach. From there she could crawl a few feet before leaping into the surf, free and fearless, confident that the gentle sea would catch her and protect her fragile bones. Aches and pains disappeared, and she was transported to a world full of beauty and wonder. Glimmers of sunlight slipped through the water and illuminated the coral palaces below, a world so different from Amelia's own. The most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, definitely.

Months passed, and Amelia was happy. Yes, happy. Her pain hadn't lessened; if anything it increased because she'd had a slight fall and fractured one of her ankles yet again. However, her symptoms were manageable with proper care, and her regular swimming had made her much stronger. She'd developed a keen interest in ocean life as well; in actuality she'd told all her teachers that she wanted to become a marine biologist. This was met with rather lukewarm "ah"s and "uh-hum"s, but it didn't matter. She was not deterred. Every day after school during third grade, Amelia checked out every marine biology book she could find in the library.