My The Secret Diary said: Look at the events of your life, past, present and future, and give thanks to each and every one of them.
So I did. And I remembered.
My husband saved my life.
I am not speaking metaphorically (but I think I could very well be).
We were newlyweds and off to a second honeymoon in the island of Hawaii. We were driving by the coast, enjoying the crisp Hawaiian sun and the endless expanse of blue – blue water, blue skies, sands stretching to forever. They were not kidding when they called this place paradiso, I thought. We were on a bus and we just fancied to go on a trip around the island. We would hop out when we saw a beach that we liked, swim for a bit, or lazy around, and then hop back in.
We saw it. What they called Shark’s Cove.
There were black decaying volcanic rocks and big round boulders that framed the side of the cove. We wanted to see if the beaches of Hawaii had more to offer – more colorful fishes, wonderful coral reef – so we hopped out of our bus and ran barefoot along the rocky beach to meet the shore and the sea. What we saw before us were clear waters and then a deepening blue, a drop, maybe 25 feet or more, but I am no longer sure. I donned my goggles and my husband donned his and without any thought (to life or limb), we dove and swam and looked below.
I thought I saw a turtle.
Inside I smiled. I spied that below us were more builders. But it was really dark so I took a closer look. I almost gagged when I saw the boulders move. I could not believe my eyes when I came face to face with big fishes, huge fishes, the most gigantic fishes I have ever seen (well, my face was to their backs, which is good because I do not think I will be able to bear it if I think they were looking at me). They were by the boulders and acted like the boulders, silent, strong, huge. The experience was almost otherworldly. I clung to the thing closest to me.
He saw what I saw and we both knew, by instinct, that we have got to get out of there. Those were not sharks, we are sure, but more along the lines of a bass (but, can I say it again? a big one). And though we were pretty sure that it will not bite, it was not a good thought that we were there, in the water, with them.
My husband and I were not wearing any life jackets. We felt the lash of the current all at once – it was very strong. We were being hurled into the boulders and I was so terrorized that I clung to dear life. Dear life did not let me go, although I was sure he gulped more water than is necessary as he dragged me off to safety.
I got a few cuts and scrapes.
And a baby (and I was thinking maybe that was what brought about the mindless fear – I was not just only me).
I told my husband about the memory and he validated each one. He remembered as I remembered.
I did not make anything up.
More than a decade later, I still cling to him. And he lets me.
A celebration of life, a celebration of thanks.