Silver ribbons and streams of turquoise melt together in the ocean each day. The water seems palpable, as if, when I dive in, my skin will be dyed the brilliant hues. If only I had any of the glorious characteristics of the ocean. My sun fried, tomato soup colored hair, freckled and continually toasted skin, and my flipper size feet gawk in awe at the ocean, but my, how all of that seems to melt away when I float through the water. There I have gorgeous mermaid locks that twist around my shoulders and gargantuan feet propel me through the pacific kingdom with easy grace. Rarely do I give any thought to my skin in the depth, as far as I am concerned, the more it resembles scales, the happier I am.
It is an early June morning and my father has dropped me off on his way to work. I wrap myself in a tattered quilt and watch as grandpas and grandmas walk their way down the beach. Some are jogging, bouncing to the beat of their headphones. They stare at the sand, counting the crabs, but few, my favorite, never peel their eyes from my ocean. I watch their expressions bloom as the sun rises over the horizon. The grayness of the sky fades to let a serene violet woo the clouds; the watchers' eyes search the wine-colored sky to find the first hint of pink. And then it comes, bursting through a small rip in the ocean. The audiences slow their walks to gaze at the rose and tangerine glow, mouths agape, eyes wide. The clouds look like scoops of rainbow sherbet before the morning sky calms down. The best is over and the sun settles into its daily routine. The people walk on, but man oh man, what a way to start the day.
I crawl out of the quilt when I am sure that the water has warmed up a little. I feel like I'm stepping on beads of ice the sand is so cold. So I sprint to the water, clutching my mask and snorkel. I step into the surf expecting a frigid shock, but it feels like hot chocolate compared to the beach. I sit in the shallow and let the water lap around my neck. I dive in and start my journey to another world.
The colors are the first thing that grip my attention: a rainbow sea, an orchestra of emeralds, rubies, and gold, blooming clouds of tangerine coral and fierce ebony lava A giant eel peeks its head out of a reef cave near my knee. He looks at me and with his dragon eyes, laughs. I catch a glimpse of rows of very fine, pointy teeth, then he is gone. A school of parrot fish draws me away from the reef and I swim in their wake for a while. I want to look at their shiny crimson sides but all I can see is the flip of their tails as they race from my presence.
Soon I am alone, lost in the fruitful sea, which seems more like a desert now. The water is deep, the bottom drops away from my view and all I can see is the blue receding into navy, and then black. I'm not scared, just a little lonely. Everywhere I look, I am surrounded in a vat of azure, but under the water, looking up, all is changed. Lines of crystal mix with the sapphire ocean 'and blend with the baby blue of the sky. The surface is constantly moving, like waves of marble. Such lovely emptiness in the ocean, I float on my back, close my eyes, and sigh.
I am fully aware of the feeling, like a million acupuncture needles piercing the back of my neck right below the hair line. My ears tingle with an itchy sensation; now my eyes are wide open. I bob in the water and look toward the beach. I am far out, way far out. The mountains still tower but the coconut trees rooted along their sides are minute, nearly invisible. I see a few spots on the beach, walking, running. People. I start to swim in, pacing myself for the long haul, when I sense it again.
This time my whole body is affected. Each hair stands up, stiff on end, as if saluting whatever is underneath me. My mind races with all the possibilities of my stalker _ a giant human hungry fish? A shark? A sea monster? King Poseidon? I duck my head underwater and search. Nothing is there that I can see. I do a couple of flips in my joy and start heading in again, and there it is. It glides, flies through the water with the grace of an angel. It dives deep and comes at me. I wait for it. Its size is amazing. I have never before seen a sea turtle this big. It is almost five feet long and its shell is wider than my outstretched arms. It has an olive greenness and a calmness of a broken clock. With one thrust from its great fins, it ripples through the water around my feet. I dive to it and rest my hand on its shell: smooth and slippery with algae. I grip the shell near its neck and we glide through the ocean together. What a team we are. I pet his shell and he piggybacks me through the depth. Occasionally I rise to the surface to suck in another breath before returning to my newest friend. I wish I had gills. We could stay in this heaven forever.
A long time passes before I notice the two notches on its neck. They are lime sized mounds of calloused skin I reach over to touch them but the turtle flinches with the contact. I stare at them intently. One is speckled with red and brown and is flaking dead skin; the other is covered in moss. I shift my grip from my right hand to my left and notice that its shoulder is wrapped tightly with a piece of fishing line. The line is cutting into its skin and some parts of the strip have already been grown over. I look at the knot made near the shell. It's a mess of tangled string with a weight and lure. It must have been there for months or even years. I need to surface again, and I kick for another breath.
I never even open my eyes on the way to air, I don't want my tears to start fogging my mask. I squint my eyes until I am sure they have passed. I am upset at the trash that we throw in the sea There are turtles with tumors and bands of fishing wire cutting off their skim Never before have I been crestfallen after hours of snorkeling. I look for the turtle and I see it swimming away. It did not wait for me this time. I rise to the surface again and take off my mask~ I am close to shore. I wish I was in the deep blue of this paradise again. I turn around and look at the horizon. The sun is now halfway through its daily routine and my stomach is rumbling for some lunch.
I sit on the beach and unwrap my sandwich: peanut butter and jelly, a hint of salt air, and usually, a masterpiece to my taste buds. Now it doesn't taste so great, the jelly is not as sweet, the salt tastes more like tears. I wrap up my half-eaten lunch and lay down. My hands are clasped across my stomach, eyes closed. I cannot escape completely. My last refuge is mauled. My sanctuary is tainted by the trash and pollution of my kind.
My mind whirls with ideas of how to right this wrong. I lie on my quilt and listen to the sounds surrounding me: a few rumblings of passing cars, the occasional laughter of children, and always the singing of the ocean. My heart flutters as I strike an idea in the mines of my mind.
Aala Lyman, 17, a Waialua resident and reader of the Honolulu Advertiser. She's a junior at The Kamehameha Schools in Honolulu. Sponsoring teacher: Gail Wolliver. Story: "Sea Turtle."