Big mistake, I think, treading rough surf on an unguarded beach in Maui. The water’s too deep for a little boy, too wild for a grown woman who still doggy paddles. I clutch my seven-year-old nephew. A wave rips the snorkel mask from my face, vanishing it. Brine storms my mouth, my nostrils, and my toes don’t touch the ocean’s floor. I am not a good swimmer. Another wave yanks my body from him, hurtles me toward shore. His head bobs 30 yards out, arms raised skyward. How would I tell my sister? I plunge back into the raging current.
Tess Kelly's work has appeared in HerStry, Ruminate, Dorothy Parker's Ashes, Five Minutes, and others. She lives and writes in Portland, Oregon.