Memoir

The boat was white, with two decks. Eager people with their arms full of towels and bathing suits rushed to seize one of the many blue leather seats. Children ran around their mothers, nearly bursting with anticipation as the crew untied the boat from the dock. The engine started, startling a group of seagulls lounging on the bow of the ferry, who flew up but quickly resumed their position on the mast.

I couldn’t believe I was finally here. I had dreamed about this moment for the past month- imagined the picturesque landscape, the cool blue water, the freedom of being with my friend for a whole week. The week before, I had told all of my friends about the big trip. Thinking about my friends reminded me of the fight we had gotten in. It wasn’t over anything important, we just sort of divided. I hated being in fights, hated being on people’s bad side.

My brother Joe and I followed my parents through the crowd to a booth, where we set down our belongings and looked around for the other family that was traveling with us. We spotted them a table away and I walked over, eager to talk to Taylor. Our families went everywhere together- vacations, outings, dinner, and movies. This year we had decided to go to the Bahamas, a break from the cold and heartless winter back home.

Taylor was sitting at a table, wearing red swim trunks with white Hawaiian flowers on them, and a blue Red Sox t-shirt. He hadn't brushed his dirty blond hair that morning, and his blue eyes were studying a picture of fish on the wall.

"Hey," I said as I approached, and he turned his head to look at me.

"Hi," he replied. "Want to go look around?" He rose and I followed him out to the deck. We were moving now, and wind rushed past the white boat, blowing my hair in my eyes. I looked out over the water and breathed in the salty, tropical air. Even though it was late February, the temperature was eighty degrees and rising.

We made our way to the bow of the boat, weaving through the crowd. I leaned against the white, metal railing, watching the shore disappear into the distance. Taylor came up next to me, and we started chatting, catching up on school, gossip, and friends. I told him about the fight my friends and I had gotten in. He consoled me and told me about a similar experience he had had. He was like my brother- the kind of closeness that comes with spending your childhood together. We could talk about nearly anything.

Soon an island came into view. From a distance it was just a bright green splotch in the middle of a vast blue sea. "We better go back," Taylor said. As we entered the interior of the boat, we found our families all squished into a booth. Joe and Taylor's brother, Conor, were playing with Pokemon cards, while the adults played hearts. Our parents suddenly burst out laughing, but surrounding conversations drowned the sound out.

An intercom came on and a loud voice announced, "We are now approaching ___ Island. Please move to the starboard side of the boat as we prepare to dock." There was a click, and the intercom went silent. Everyone resumed their conversations, and the room one again filled with chatter. We joined the crowd in casually packing our bags and filling our arms with towels, then made our way to the door.

Finally the boat collided with the dock, sending a jolt through the floor. I heard shouts from the crew as they opened doors and lowered the anchor into the blue ocean below. They opened the gate and people started filtering through the double doors of the boat and down the stainless steal ramp to the shore.
The island was full of lush green underbrush and tall gangly palm trees. The sand was white- full of crushed coral and bits of bleached shell. It sunk in and left indents in its perfect surface with each step I took. Birds chirped and piped merrily from above, welcoming the new visitors to their island.

We followed the crowd along the beach, escorted by a tour guide wearing a bright red shirt. The beach led to a clearing, where a weathered wooden house stood surrounded by vivid flowers and bushes. There was no door leading inside, but a man stood in the threshold and ushered us in. The interior consisted of a cement floor. A ping-pong table sat of to one section, and a bar and café took up the other side. There was a small souvenir shop behind the ping-pong table. On the far wall was another door-less entryway that led to a porch with wooden picnic tables.

We sat down one of the weathered picnic tables as our guide stood at the front of the deck, blending in to a group of people in red shirts. A young man with brown hair in a buzz cut shaved close to his scalp stood up. “Welcome everyone,” he said. “I’m glad that everyone could make it today. It’s a gorgeous day out here, so get ready to have a great time.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I didn’t want to sit here, listening to a pep talk, I wanted to go play.

“If you want to go snorkeling, you have to stay for a few minutes to learn how to use the equipment.” I rolled my eyes, and Taylor looked at me and did the same. Are you kidding me? It’s a mask and a snorkel. You put the mask on your face, put the snorkel in your mouth, and swim. Not that complicated. “Our menu today is fried chicken, veggie burgers, chips, vegetables, and cookies. It will be served over there.” He gestured to a kitchen and tables with silver chafing dishes on them. “Our bar is next to the kitchen. The first drink is on us, but after that you have to pay. Alright everyone, if you want to snorkel stay here, and if you don’t, go explore!”
A bunch of people got up and walked off the deck. They scattered around the beach and in the shelter. My mind started to wander, and I tuned him out- a skill I had un-intentionally acquired in AH. What was going to happen to me, Kayla, and Lauren. And what about flute? I had an audition coming up, and I hadn’t practiced in a week. Whatever, I wasn’t going to worry about it. It was February vacation. Which reminded me –it was Taylor’s birthday today. We were a year and two days apart. My birthday had been celebrated on the plane ride down here, just two days before. So much for getting to sleep in.

My thoughts were interrupted by my dad tapping me on the shoulder. “Get your life vest,” he said, and pointed to a large bucket. I walked over and grabbed one of the live vests- if you could call it that. I also took a mask, and a snorkel so bright it made the sun look dull. I started walking away when a guide grabbed my shoulder. “Did you get flippers?” he asked. Oh no, not flippers. Flippers are French torture devices. They are fine in water, sure, but walking across the beach?
I picked a pair of black flippers out of a bin marked 6-7 men’s. I struggled to pull them over my feet and then started the seemingly long walk to the ocean. Then Taylor and I headed for the water. Walking across sand in flippers in no small task, let me tell you what. I was doing fine, until I came to a large hole, which Taylor stepped over, but I failed to notice. The end of my flipper stuck in the hole and the whole thing bent, acting like a spring board so that I ended up getting thrown forward. I ended up flat on my back. After the shock wore away, I started laughing. Taylor joined in, offering me his hand which I took and helped me to my feet. The rest of the way was harmless.

Waves splashed around my ankles. It was warm, unlike the cold New England water back home. “Hey look,” Taylor said from behind me. As I turned around a huge piece of seaweed landed in my hair.

“Eww!” I shrieked, “That’s gross!” Taylor just laughed and threw another piece at me. I joined in his laughter and grabbed the piece on top of my head. I threw it as hard as I could and it hit Taylor’s chest with a smack.
“Oh no you didn’t,” he said, and seized a piece floating lazily in the water. He balled it in his fist and hurled it at me. Our seaweed war raged on until we both collapsed in the shallow water, laughing hysterically.

“Let’s go swim,” I said, once the last giggle had faded away. He nodded his head in agreement and we waded in deeper. Once it was up to my shoulder we started to swim.

I disappeared below the surface and my world dissolved with it. I didn’t have to worry about who to hang out with when I got home, or the fact that I hadn’t practiced my flute in two weeks. It was just me.
I was flying. Water parted for me with each stroke, then swept past me into the clear depth of the ocean. I didn't notice that I wasn't breathing; didn't feel the need for air. All I knew was that I was there, my life vest floating a ways above me, casting a hazy gray shadow on the sand below.

The last pockets of air escaped the bright yellow snorkel, floating to the surface like small, perfect crystals. The sun shone through the water, casting shimmering light that danced on the sand and the colorful reef. Fish of every color swam lazily about the red coral, which twisted and twined around itself in a gnarled knot.

I glimpsed a shell on the sand below and made my way towards it. The shell was an off white, the color of coffee creamer, with greenish-gray patches of algae. It twisted in a spiral, up and up and ended in a peak, like the top of a castle in a fairy tale. If something had once taken the shell for a home, they had abandoned it; left it for the next needy creature to crawl into and make its home.
My ears popped, like I was on an airplane, and I glanced upwards. The glittering surface was about twenty feet above me. That was when I realized I had been holding my breath for what seemed like eternity and needed air. Dropping my new treasure, I quickly swam to the surface. My head burst out of the ocean, and water sprayed out the end of my snorkel. I spit out the mouthpiece and took a gasping breath, re-learning how to breathe.

I stuck my face in and looked around. It was like a contrary universe, full of new creatures and life. Suddenly a parrotfish darted past me. I quickly turned in its direction and followed on the surface until the creature got too deep for me to see. Its scales shone in the sunlight reflecting rainbows of color onto the surrounding coral. The fish made swimming look effortless, like a kind of graceful dance. The fish soon disappeared into what looked like the jungle of seaweed. I swam towards it and burst through a tangle of seaweed into an opening. I looked around at the change in scenery. Schools of angelfish darted this way and that, and sea anemones caressed lounging clown fish. The coral was full and alive and colorful. I spun around, taking in the view.

My lungs suddenly started to burn, and I started swimming for the surface. My chest ached to take a breath, and my motions became more rapid in my struggle to find air. I hadn’t realized how far down I had gone. As I broke the surface and took a long, winded breath, I also realized how far from shore I had gone. My life vest was half way to where I was treading water to where the buoy was. I quickly gathered myself and started headed back.

When I got back to shore my parents were waiting for me. The towels had been put back into the red handled tote bag and people around us were putting sunscreen in their own bags. The lifeguards were herding people out of the water, who reluctantly made their way back to the sandy beach. The lounge chairs that had once held people were empty.

“Come on,” my mom said, “It’s time to leave.” She grabbed a towel out of the bag and handed it to me. I wrapped it around me and removed my mask and snorkel. A staff member took it from me and threw them into a large blue bin. Soon people started walking back along the path towards the boat. We followed.
As I walked up the metal ramp to the white boat, I took in one last breath of tropical air, one last gulp of crystal blue water and lush forests of seaweed and bright fish and lounging on the beach in the warm sun. Then I took the last dreaded step of and disappeared through the threshold.