Shit. The horizon line I take for granted is gone.

Panic rolls in with the waves that toss me. The boat deck sways in an arcing smile that I’m thoroughly convinced is mocking my fear. A forgotten snorkel hangs along my cheek as brine fills my mouth. Nothing in my freshwater training prepared me for the open ocean’s forcefulness.

I know I’m not truly in danger, but rationality isn’t winning here. Bobbing in my dive gear, I’m just a human buoy of reactive nerves. I’m frozen.

I lock onto my husband of two days.  My eyes plead. I can’t do this. My fear-riddled ego thrashes. You’re ready. You’ve trained. You can do this. No I can’t. Think of all the time and money you put in. I don’t care.

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