Every year I tell my class of the day that I was a goddess...
Writing, like food, can be bland when it's not seasoned correctly. And by seasoned I mean embellished. When telling my students, as I do every year, that creating a "mind movie" is of the utmost importance when writing, they usually give me the, "Oh, this shtick again" look and attempt to tune me out. Attempt to tune me out. That's when I tell them my tall tale... of when I was a goddess... almost.
One day my family and I were at the beach. The sand was warm and crunched softly beneath my bare feet as I trudged along the shoreline. The rich blue sky was speckled with light fluffy clouds that offered an occasional reprieve from the summer sun, with sporadic moments of shade.
As my husband and daughters searched for shells nearby, I stared blissfully into the shallow waters that lapped at my toes. And that's when I saw it.
A crab. A big crab. Nay, a hulking crustacean. This crab was on 'roids and he was "swole".
I crouched over the crab. Like the clouds above me, I offered the sand-colored crustacean a spot of shade and then, with lightning speed, and the grace of a dancer, I scooped the unsuspecting crab into my right hand. Water droplets glistened on the crab's exoskeleton, dripping in rivulets down my victorious arm. My face beamed and I slowly pivoted around, staring out at the few people around me. My eyes searched for my children as I bellowed, "I've caught a crab! I've caught a crab!" My daughters' eyes found my own and in that moment I felt like a superhero! I could see that they were impressed by my prowess.
And it was in that moment that I made my mistake. An egregious mistake.
Without thought, I decided I would move the aloft crab to my left hand. It was at that moment that the crab saw his chance. As my left hand reached, his pincer opened... and suddenly he was holding me.
I screamed out in pain as the crab sank its pincer into my thumb nail. Blood began dripping into the water. Small droplets of deep red quickly dissolved into the salty water. I shook my hand and pleaded with the crab. My embarrassment was on hold (as the once impressed onlookers were now shaking their heads) as a pain induced tear slid down my cheek. The crab, satisfied with my suffering, released me from his grip and scurried through the water to tell his own tale.
As I surveyed the hole in my thumbnail I heard someone yell, "LOOK!" Out in the water were several dark shapes cruising slowly off the shoreline. I became horror-struck as I considered by injured thumb and the copious amounts of blood I'd released into the water. I stood frozen, thigh-deep in blood-tinged salt water.
And then, I dove into the waves and began swimming toward the ominous dark shapes.
Three Manatee drifted peacefully along the shoreline and kindly obliged me for a few moments of companionship... and a parting touch.
As I marched up onto the soft, warm sand I looked upon my daughters and said, "I just swam with Manatees!" My daughters looked at me as if I were super human. I was a women that caught enormous, armor clad beasts with one hand. I was a woman that risked shark-infested water to swim with mermaids. I was a goddess in that moment.
As we left that day, we walked across the worn wood planks of the beach walkway. The rough texture of the sun-bleached wood felt oddly nice on my pruned toes. Near the end of the walk I saw the sign: Do not touch the Manatee.
...Almost!
