(aka, asthma is really bad right now 😦 )
I cannot tell when my heart stopped singing for the stillness and coolness of the water. I cannot tell when I got bored with the tedious life under the water. I cannot tell you when I started to drown. Time has no meaning to us after all. Sun ups, sun downs, it doesn’t matter. The flows of the tide does not affect us on the ocean floor.
So it must have happened little by little. Perhaps I dreamt of sun one day, the next I dreamt of grass. And little by little, the oxygen around me thinned. I grew sluggish at first. I couldn’t tell something was wrong. Then I grew scared. A mermaid who drowns – what a joke. I didn’t want to be a joke. But seaweed was filling my mouth and my lungs were filling with water.
So I swam towards the surface. I knew the dangers, my father had warned me. I knew it to be true. But I would rather choke on air than water. When I breached the surface, oxygen poured through my throat like fire. It was pure. Not mixed with water.
I tried, I really did. My underdeveloped lungs did their best I suppose. I closed my eyes. My gills shut and opened. As I took my one last breath I could hear the songs of my mothers, calling me to a life beyond sand and water.
But let me tell you this, drowning on land aside, I have never felt more alive than when I was a stranded fish. I was there, free, under the sun and I loved it.