We are snorkeling off the coast of Hawaii (yeah, life is good), searching out coral, the magnets of the sea for shimmering fishees.
Every once in a while I feel a tug on my flipper and look back to see my daughter, pulling herself up my leg and torso. She holds a fistful of my suit in her hand for a minute and then shoots ahead of me, her flippers nearly batting me in the face every time.
She sees this as her right, which I guess it is.
Each time it happens, I lose ground. I get pulled off course and pushed back by the current. I lose my stroke, come out of my trance.
The cycle of emotions at this point will be familiar to any parent:
What? Aw c’mon… oh… okay… (smile)…. you go girl… I’m right behind you.
As my family will tell you, I hate to pulled out of my trance – when I’m writing, when I’m meditating, when I’m thinking,… but sometimes when it happens and I go through this cycle and I’m done being upset …when I get back to what I was doing, I fall into it a little bit more.
The thoughts and the fishes look brighter but more than that, finding the brightest, biggest ones doesn’t matter as much anymore. They just come.
It’s as good as it gets: floating high over the ocean floor with the sun on my back, the sound of my breathing, and her kicking up bubbles in front of me.