The Ocean Is My Fear

I love the ocean. Actually, that isn't completely true. I love to be at the beach, to walk on the beach, to fall asleep to the sound of the waves, and to forget about all my cares until I drive away from the beach. I am slightly afraid of the ocean. The animals and critters and such in there freak me out. Even on the hottest of days, I will be scorching on the beach, resisting the urge to swim. I'm so afraid of an animal touching me. Unrealistic-maybe; but, my own personal fear.

For as long as I can remember, my mom has always been the opposite. She was the one who played in the ocean with my brother and I; she was on the boogie board catching waves; she loves the ocean. She will stare at me longingly trying to get me into the ocean with her, knowing what my answer will be. I'm much happier sitting on the sidelines watching her, reading my book. She just sighs and drags her boogie board in.

This trip, my uncle wrangled us a kayak from the people down the beach. They had rented it for the week, and couldn't use it the entire time and offered us use of it one day. While it was such a kind offer, they only had one life vest (kinda strange for a 2 person kayak, but...). My uncle can't swim, which didn't make a whole lot of sense for him to be out in the ocean on a vessel that can flip. So, after two days of begging, I went out with my mom. My fears were the same, and fear was overwhelming, but I went because she does so many things for me.

We made it back without flipping, and I'm happy I did it. I can't say I'm going to be venturing into the ocean with every trip, but at least I know I can do it if I want.