Gripping the bleached railing, I concentrated on tensing and relaxing my fingers. Nervousness radiated from every pore of my being and I tried to feign nonchalance as I observed everyone around me preparing for their descent into the frigid water below. Frothy waves churned and crashed against the boat, causing me to unsteadily totter toward my father who had already stripped of his T-shirt and shorts to reveal blue swim trunks. Following his example, I shrugged off my clinging shirt and shorts to reveal a faded black swimsuit.

“Ready?” He gave me an electric grin and strode off to get us life jackets, goggles, snorkels, and flippers. Meanwhile, my mother was fussing with our silver lightweight Lumix camera - carefully putting away the black case and gently testing the wrist strap.

My dad returned weighed down with two pairs of everything and I hurried to lighten his load. Fumbling, I dropped the plastic flippers and reaching down, I crammed my pale feet into their orange confines. When I was done, my father helped me to strap on the lifejacket, put on the goggles and adjust the mouthpiece of the snorkel.

Reigning in the urge to spit, I performed an undignified waddle in my ridiculous neon flippers toward the line that was forming to get off the boat. I waited behind my father until the time came to step onto the groaning ladder. Cautiously gripping the sides, I slowly moved down, rung by rung - terrified to slip and dreading the feeling of ice cold water trickling into my swimsuit.


Remembering how I had recklessly lowered myself into the calm waters of the Maldives, the previous day, gave me courage. Calmly splashing around outside our hotel bedroom, I had only bothered to wear a pair of ratty yellow goggles. Ogling at the colorful fish flitting around me, I had wished for a camera to capture their beauty and observe the photos later on. My deteriorating eyesight made it difficult to see more than sudden explosions, flashes, and blurs of color.

Jolting back to reality from the shock of my skin coming in contact with the ocean, I stared in horror at the water heaving upward and pushing me back against the boat. Flattening myself against the ladder, I tried to fight the surge of panic that made me hyperventilate.

Suddenly, everything was beginning to feel all too real. The water was turning me numb and relentlessly surging up against me. It came in gushing torrents and surrounded me completely.

When my father grabbed my wrist and gently tugged, I tried to follow his lead but the waves rose above me again and this time I couldn’t control myself. Abandoning the mouth piece altogether, I began struggling to breathe air but instead earned mouthfuls of water.

Coughing, I gave in to my fear and flinched back shaking my head. Sufficiently conveying the extent of my panic, I was helped back onto the boat by my father who hastily reassured me and left to catch up with the rest of the group.

Shaking her head, my mother silently communicated her displeasure with my cowardice. Still spluttering salt water, I chose to ignore her and grabbed a towel to rub myself dry. Perching alone on the hard wooden seat, I fought back tears of frustration at my failed attempt to snorkel.

After surviving swimming lessons and previous snorkeling trips, I hadn’t expected myself to react this way. Now hugging my knees to my torso for warmth, I stilled the incessant chattering of my teeth and promised myself that I would try again. But it was time to move on and firmly placing my feet on the damp floor, I straightened my spine and the voices in my head, chastising me, faded away.