My weathered pink suit (elastic long gone) left me almost entirely exposed. I was past my ankles, deep in sand. I wiggled my five-year-old toes, oblivious to anything beyond myself. Each incoming and outgoing wave hypnotized me further. A big one formed, peaking with froth, knocking me to the ground. Harsh grittiness scrubbed my skin. The force didn't care if I was rock or child. It rolled my body over and over. I surrendered to the possibility of becoming a pebble. Then, catching my breath, finding my footing, I stood up tall and dared the ocean to try that again.
Kathryn Masso is a global nomad using writing as a tool to explore the wild wanderings inside her mind.