I bobbed up and down lightly in the warm, blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean. The lonely figure of the boat that brought me here waited patiently about thirty yards off in the the distance, its mast and sail rising high into the pale blue morning sky. Below me loomed The Great Blue Hole of Belize, it's depths below me seemed to stare back with a menacing gaze. I traveled a long way from home just to use this spot for my freediving training. It’s hard to find a place like this in Illinois. Sure there are pools, but you can only stay under for about four to five minutes until a nosy lifeguard comes along and plucks you out. My husband, Thomas, would look at me with a gaze of annoyance and sympathy. A look he’s had much practice with. “Daddy!”
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The color filled me from my nose to my toes. A deep consuming color. Every thought of air, food and warmth left me at the surface. The cave walls beside me rushed by as I pushed and pushed down. More memories began to surface around me in the blue like escaped bubbles from the seafloor. Images and moving pictures of my husband holding our child up in the air, glee and joy on their faces. All of the sudden the picture morphed into something far less innocent. My husband stood protectively in front of them instead. A look of fear plastered across his face. The image left as quick as it came but it left behind a feeling of something in me. Guilt? Anger? Desperation? I stopped pushing down and floated peacefully in the water, Holding there in deep indigo space. More images appeared and went. My parents yelling at each other, at me, at Thomas. Open containers of chinese food on the table, seemingly left there for hours. Sounds of children shouting and the screech of car brakes. A funeral march, the Headstone of a child. Bottles, all kinds of bottles. Broken beer bottles, empty vodka bottles, all strewn across the floor. Pills scattered along the counter falling onto the stained linoleum floor. Clean hospital beds with empty IV’s waiting at their sides, the sound of daytime sitcoms playing monotonously from the T.V. set. A tarnished wedding ring sat hopeless in the
The color filled me from my nose to my toes. A deep consuming color. Every thought of air, food and warmth left me at the surface. The cave walls beside me rushed by as I pushed and pushed down. More memories began to surface around me in the blue like escaped bubbles from the seafloor. Images and moving pictures of my husband holding our child up in the air, glee and joy on their faces. All of the sudden the picture morphed into something far less innocent. My husband stood protectively in front of them instead. A look of fear plastered across his face. The image left as quick as it came but it left behind a feeling of something in me. Guilt? Anger? Desperation? I stopped pushing down and floated peacefully in the water, Holding there in deep indigo space. More images appeared and went. My parents yelling at each other, at me, at Thomas. Open containers of chinese food on the table, seemingly left there for hours. Sounds of children shouting and the screech of car brakes. A funeral march, the Headstone of a child. Bottles, all kinds of bottles. Broken beer bottles, empty vodka bottles, all strewn across the floor. Pills scattered along the counter falling onto the stained linoleum floor. Clean hospital beds with empty IV’s waiting at their sides, the sound of daytime sitcoms playing monotonously from the T.V. set. A tarnished wedding ring sat hopeless in the