Three days without salt. That’s a long stretch for a man who counts water as oxygen, and I felt every hour of it. A tropical storm had stirred the Gulf into a wild mess, and my wife made her case for staying dry with the kind of concern that only comes from love. I told her I heard her. I stayed on the sand until the surge dropped.
Today the flag was yellow. Medium hazard, exercise caution. The waves were breaking in loose, unorganized sets instead of our usual easy roll, and underwater visibility was very limited. On the sea floor I could still make out a few things, but sand kept being churned up by the surge. Found a bunch of bleached sand dollars. It always makes me feel like a kid on Christmas.
Then I swam past the breakers, out where the Gulf was still working off its temper, and the day turned into a different world entirely.
A dolphin came flying up out of the water – a full breach, its body glistening in the morning sun as it hung briefly suspended in the air. There was so much sheer joy in that moment – a wild creature bursting with the pure delight of being alive. I shouted. Couldn’t help it. Out there alone with the storm’s leftovers still churning around me, this wild thing threw itself into the air for no reason but the glee of it.
I didn’t think the day had another gift in it. It did.
A second dolphin swam in close, closer than they usually bother with, a fresh catch still flashing in its mouth. And then it started tossing the fish – up, catch, and up again – like it knew exactly who was watching. I floated there, holding still, serene. An audience of one. I felt treasured.
When it finally peeled off and disappeared, I stayed floating, savoring it. A quiet sense of completeness. It’s hard to explain. I swim this Gulf nearly every day but do hope I never lose my sense of awe when handed a gift like that. A kindness bigger than the both of us, showing up uninvited amid a storm’s aftermath.
I almost didn’t write this one down. Some things feel smaller the moment you try to hand them to somebody else in words. But some things ask to be witnessed out loud anyway, clumsy telling and all.
So here it is. Two dolphins, one restless Gulf, and a reminder that showing up – even on the days the flag says think twice – is usually where the good stuff is hiding.
