Lost and Found



Only a random scrap of the wreckage to hold.

A random scrap to help me stay afloat.

To help me breathe.

What the scrap is doesn't matter. All that matters is that it floats.

I don't swim well so I desperately need it.

I grip it tightly, literally for dear life. 

I'm floating aimlessly in the vast and broad expanse of the ocean.

What lurks below the surface? I can't tell.

Could be anything. I just don't know.

There could be a shark or a jellyfish or an eel. I mean there probably is... Or, however unlikely, I suppose there could be nothing.

But, in the end, whatever brings my end, will be what brings my end.

It could be the sharp rip of a shark bite tearing at my leg. Chomping and thrashing.

It could be the sudden searing pain of a jellyfish sting. They look peaceful until they aren't.

It could be the abrupt, paralyzing electric jolt of an eel. That's what eels do...right? I'm not sure.

I am sure the ocean's an uncertain place though. I'm sure of that.

The ocean is scary.

The ocean could easily bring an end to my floating scrap, which would, in turn, bring an end to me.

Or I could slip from my float, or I could lose my grip on my float.

Or my float could just stop floating.

For me it would bring the same result as the shark or the jellyfish or the eel.

That a lot could go wrong is a constant.

Things could always go very wrong. 


Luckily, there's this one floating scrap.

This one bit to hold on to, to leverage my head above the water, so I can breathe.

Breathing a second longer brings a second more for the chance someone could find me.

Someone could see something.

Something that stands out. A small glint amidst the wide abyss. 

Something that merits a closer look through binoculars.

Something that prompts a large point toward a tiny spec in the water.

Excitedly, "There! He's there!"

For me a new floating contraption descends.

A new thing for me to latch on to.

A diver jumps in and wraps a band around me.

He gives the thumbs up signal to some hidden observer above and a wench starts to turn.

I start to rise up.

I start to separate from the unknown I have now come to know. 

Ascending gives me a new perspective. 

From above, the ocean looks less intimidating.

It looks less frightening without my legs treading in the void.

It looks less scary with the removal of some of the unknown.

Now the ocean looks peaceful and beautiful.

It's the same place that moments before instilled fear.

The exact same place. The same powerful, unpredictable place. It's hard to believe.

But, as I slowly rise up, I mostly think how happy I am for that floating scrap. 

That single piece that allowed me to keep breathing.

That allowed me to stay alive. 

In the end, that floating scrap enabled me to be found.