Falling Seven Leagues Under

I - Stranger By The Sea

Salt washed through my curly locks.

The waves fought to hold me back, rough drifts tugged my body toward the shore, but the further I ventured into the depths of danger; the deeper I wanted to go.

Nothing in the world compared to the feeling of waves splashing over my feet; the ocean breeze in my hair; sand against my skin. But it just wasn't quite like being swallowed by it, completely, and utterly, enveloped by the weight of the dark blue. That place, that one place, just past where the rocky sea bed descends into an abyss, that was my happy place. Out there, I found the weightless power of silence. A calming stillness. In that place I felt most like myself, I felt like it had been brought into existence just for me; some small-town girl who lived for the ocean, but truthfully, didn't have a clue about anything else in her life.

Though in my book, drowning was the worst way to go, there was something about the sea that called to me. The soothing sound of the crashing waves, the beautiful horizon of endless water, the unimaginable vastness of species waited for us out there deeper than anyone could venture, the wet sand against my toes. Everything about the ocean had always been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. In a way, it was apart of me.

I felt a connection to the ocean that ran deeper than just a memory, I could feel the waves in my blood, the energy of the sea in my veins. It's not like I could talk to fish or anything weird, but sometimes I felt different in the ocean. I felt meaningful, in a way I was beginning to think I would never feel above the surface. Every dream I can remember through my childhood was connected to the ocean, some part of me belonged there.....somehow.

Despite how deep the connection ran through me, I still felt crazy sometimes. I guess only knowing life by the sea could do that to a girl.

I lived in a small town on the shore of Maine, with a population of precisely 536 people.

Number 537 was on its way in March, the Jones' first baby girl. I liked my small town but knowing everything about everyone who lived here was becoming a little monotonous.

I want to travel one day, to see something other than the streets and shores of Maine, to be honest — though I could never admit this aloud — life around here was pretty boring. I had never even been outside of Maine, I mean my parents took me to New York once when I was a baby, but I was too young then to even have thoughts of my own. So I didn't count that.

I want to truly experience a new place, maybe swim with the dolphins in Hawaii, or dive into the beautiful clear water of Greece. Both oceans-related, I know. But I can't imagine traveling and not being next to the ocean. It's all I've ever known. But how would I pay for it? How would I get there? Where would one even start? It certainly wasn't in this town.

It was just my Dad and me now. I guess coming home to a man that reeked of the smell of fish off the docks wasn't what she envisioned for herself. And her little girl wasn't enough to stay. You get used to the fishy aroma eventually, I did. Though it might sound a little disgusting to most, I couldn't imagine hugging my dad and not inhaling the scent of saltwater and fish guts. I guess it was an acquired life, one she decided she didn't want anymore. But that was years ago now, I don't remember much about her, and Dad never talks about her to me. He doesn't even keep photos of her around. A part of me wished I knew her. Did I look like her? Does she miss us? Does she want to at least see me now?