I feel my heart jumping around inside my chest, pushing against its bony restraints in erratic, desperate throbs.
I must have forgotten to breathe.
It’s like I’m standing on the beach with the very tips of my toes kissing the edge of the icy, early morning waves.
All I can manage are goosebumps and shallow breathing.
I’m grounded for now but with each lick, lick, lick, my balance shifts. I get sucked further in.
My ears are overwhelmed by the sound of the waves- a car driving 90 miles-per-hour through a never ending traffic tunnel.
I’m on the verge of some great experience and all I can form are common, ineffective words.
What is going on? I mutter. Holy shit! HOLY SHIT!
This doesn’t even sound like me. My heart’s irregular beating is producing word vomit.
The sand beneath my feet finally succumbs to the convincing pull of the water; submerged.
If I look down at the sand as the water pushes beneath me, I move backward- my feet lurching and settling into the sand while everything around me glides forward with relative ease.
As I begin to breathe, I know I must regain my footing or be lost in the fog that settles around the ocean when the night comes.