Snorkel

Steering wheel with the strength of playdoh. It bends and bucks under my hands— I wonder if it’ll twist off the console and leave me without direction. Idle thoughts of comparisons to twizzlers make me laugh as I sit behind a cement truck.

A spam-pink back from the snorkeling session. A shaky hand showing a bevy of fish below the ways. Electric blue, zebra stripes, yellow rings, all a vortex of color and movement as the schools zoom through the reefs.

A sputtered start with a heavy dose of saline. The filter had slipped off the snorkel entry. I sucked in more seawater than set of Oceanside bellows and flopped around the surf as I struggled to sort it out.

It’s nearing my birthday and it’s weird I didn’t even think to make plans for it. It sat on the calendar with the same guise as the rest of the other days. No great difference to it’s position in the middle of the week.