Flickering Fish — My Faith Helps Me Appreciate

An early morning dive unveils many surprises of the sea.

I often compared my life to the beaches of my hometown in Galveston, Texas; murky, sometimes dismal, but oftentimes breaking away from the norm.

Anyone familiar with Galveston beaches knows that the Mississippi River empties into the Gulf of Mexico. Soot, oil, and a compilation of muddy waste make for a less than clear body of water.

Regardless, Galveston beaches are beautiful in their own, unique way.

There are many days of grayish, chocolate discolored waters washing into beaches with gritty, chalky sand. Then there are the days of clarity and calmness when the beach water is beautiful blue-green, just as picturesque as the Caribbean.

Seven o’clock in the morning, my phone rang. I didn’t pick up. Then the person called again. I didn’t pick up this time.

I jumped up thinking it could be a family member trying so hard to reach out me because there was an emergency. My heart beat so hard, my breathing was a bit shallow. The adrenaline rush had my body vibrating.

It was my friend, Eric. Hearing the soothing sounds of the bass in his voice was calming and exciting at the same time.

“Yo, have you looked out of your window at the beach this morning? The water is beautiful. If you get this message, see you in forty-five.”

I showered, grabbed my diving gear, and ran towards the beach toting a heavy load. I was thankful the waters were only four blocks away from my small, garage apartment. The closer I approached the seawall, the stronger the gusts of wind became, making the equipment even heavier.

Granules of sand whipped and tore across my face. I wasn’t bothered. I ran down the stairs of the seawall to find Eric zipping up his wet suit. I let out a scream of excitement and glee.

Eric and I embraced. We had been hugging a lot lately. We were happy to see each other, preparing for the moment we had been waiting for.

The voyage would be more than just an opportunity to swim and finally see what’s been lurking in the depths of our beach. This was an opportunity to try Eric’s canoe and paddle to the middle of nowhere, away from the city life for a couple of hours.

We paddled to a spot, a place we deemed fit far enough to venture to, and covered ourselves in our gear. Fluttering in the water, active and lively, were the fish of our tropical home.

Brilliantly colored, with an iridescent bluish green and gold body, golden yellow fins, and a golden tail, the mahi-mahi swimming at my fingertips was beautifully striking to see.

My fear of the deep blue became evident as I felt I was being chased by an eel. My mind was at ease to see the distinct coloring of cobia swimming past me. With alternating black and white horizontal stripes and splotches of bronze, orange, and green, this fish was a beautiful sight to see.

Not a moment too soon, I was surrounded by the most recognizable fish of the Gulf. I felt like a was loved by the puppies of the Gulf, the striking red snapper. Always a sweet, delicate flavorful fish, the last thing on my mind was eating one of these creatures of God’s kingdom.

I marvelled at the sight and the blessing of swimming in the Gulf. At that moment, I realized that the circle of life didn’t stop in a forest, a bush, or on dry land. This circle extended to the blue outdoors so many of us take for granted.

We fear the unknown and for those who don’t know how to swim or who have a phobia of water, they will never enjoy the peace and tranquility of the sea. The wonderful depths that produce irridescent colors, an ecosystem depending on each organism to do their unique part.

This is the Gulf that flows through my hometown of Galveston, Texas. This was my adventure. One I will forever cherish.

Enjoyable reads, like this one from Caroline de Braganza, takes us to foreign lands with equally beautiful and majestic waters. Their story about the St. Lucia wetlands is inspiring.

Amanda Laughtland shares her upbringing near Seattle, Washington in this powerful coming of age story of her family’s regular outing together.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Sahil Patel and the wonderful journey of writing. Thank you, everyone, for sharing my love of the art of expression. Share your writing journey with us in return.