The other day, I fought against the ocean, and I realized how fragile life can be.
You don't know what it is to lose control until you're faded in the water, fading further under the influence of the waves.
It's just you and the person you're trying to protect; and the enemy, surrounding and suppressing your energy.
Toes are the only tether that you have grounding you to the reality of life. You find yourself literal inches away from death. Neck deep into the grave, you're staring back at the shore, but you're sure you'll make it back.
She stays afloat on her back.
She's much shorter than you.
Shaky hands interlock and stay locked in desperation when her feet fail to save her; her connection to you is all she has to hold onto.
Each of you knew what you were getting into when you watched the lifeguards leave. Their yellow shirts blended into the sunset behind you. The choppy waves were eager to showcase their strength against new challengers.
But right now, the only things on your mind are protection and survival.
It's not a wish, it's an absolute necessity.
When your heels feel the blanket-like comfort of the water-buried sand, you're able to reassure her,
"Everything's gonna be alright, we're getting closer."
A boost of combined energy propels you forward as soon as her feet meet the same calming terrain.
Still gripping each other's hands, you pull one another into the summer air that's colder than the water, but a million times warmer than death.
The other day, I fought against the ocean, and I emerged the victor.
The other day, I fought the ocean, and I came back that much different.