Beneath the surface

Years ago, a woman I worked with told me about her daughter’s first snorkelling experience. The young girl put the mask and snorkel on, excited to finally be joining her parents and older siblings in the sea. She put her face into the water and swam off, putting into practice what she had been taught to do in the pool before this family holiday. But when she resurfaced, the young girl was unimpressed. She couldn’t get what all the fuss was about. Didn’t understand why the rest of her family thought snorkelling was so great. Then it dawned on her mother: “You have to open your eyes,” she said. “When you are under the water, you have to open your eyes. That’s what the mask is for!”

Disbelieving and somewhat perplexed, the young girl agreed to give the snorkel another go and promised she would open her eyes. She put the mask on her face and her face in the water. Seconds later she burst up out of the water again. Eyes large. Her face glowing. “Fish!” She yelled. “I saw fish! Lots and lots of fish!” And she was gone. Mask on, face in the water, kicking along. Eyes open. Definitely eyes open. 

For the rest of the holiday, they struggled to get the young girl out of the water.

Now I feel a bit like that young girl. 

For the first time in years, I donned a diving mask and snorkel.