The question of whether I would survive the day had crossed my mind countless times. The never ending swells of seawater that had tossed me around for what had probably only been hours, but felt like years by this point. My stomach had heaved along with every upsweeping wave and dropped again like a rock with the dip between. What had happened to Father? To Mother and Marie? Our family had never been on a vacation, the cruise ship being the first thing we had ever really gone and done together.
Like a real family.
Now they were gone, swept away by the same waves that I would eventually fall under and succumb to in my last painful sleep. My eyes stung, the seawater and the incoming tears both doing their part in the grief that filled my heart. A wave splashed onto my nose and mouth again, making me choke.
I stroked harder. I wanted to live.
I clawed at my dirty blond hair, now dark because it was wet, out of my face and eyes where a wave had pushed it. I choked again, my nose aching at the seawater that had invaded my sinuses, and accidentally swallowed some of the briny water. I tried not to panic, knowing that the moment I did, it could be over for me. A wave lifted me up again and I scanned the horizon, looking for anything that I could swim for, any hope of survival.
A thin sliver of land, so small that I almost missed it, had my heart soaring. I turned in the water, waiting for the next wave to lift me so that I was sure to swim in the right direction. Purpose put new energy in the arms that had nearly given up because they were so tired. I lifted a hand out of the water, pushing it forward and down through the water, back behind me to propel myself forward. I encouraged myself, telling my other hand to do it too. I did it and paused, already so tired. The island appeared again and left my vision again, waiting for me. All I had to do was swim.
One stroke at a time.