Face to Face

“Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt.”

-Walt Whitman

Summer morning. Tropical air. The salty scent of the Atlantic blowing in the waves on the Southern shore. I arrived when that Florida sun had risen on its podium that Sunday morning, preaching its ochre praise.

I walked upon the shore, and with every bare step, another imprint in the sand, another pebble clenching to the bottom of my foot. I felt the mild chill of the cool clear waters as I slowly crept in, absorbing the initial frigid temperatures. I moved further and further away from shore until I found just the spot to bury myself underneath the surface. And with a splash, the ocean and I began our dance; with every rushing wave, we collided, romancing Mother Nature.

Alone, I paraded, diving to the ocean floor, embracing the sea as my own. I floated like the sea brothers and sisters native to these waters, and I, too, rejoiced. I lied on the surface of the ocean, being whisked away, swaying from side to side wherever the waves decided to take me.

In that moment, I thought of all the history that shared those oceans and I was a part of them in some way. Not just the crowded shores I shared with that day, but of all the people who took to those waters. And how could I forget all the creatures that lived beneath it? Just like those who came before me, I, too, was only a guest.

I felt that same burning sun, those embroidered clouds, and that very ocean, I was in the presence of an ancient artifact. I felt one with my ancestors. Those who bathed; those who drank; those who set sail toward those shores; those who took pleasure in those ocean waters long before I had ever been a picture in anyone’s mind.

Just as they felt when they looked on the water and sky, so I felt.