Now you were swimming and so was I; we could swim together

I saw you at the sea, my friend.

You didn’t see me. From a distance, hiding among the reeds, I watched you swimming among the others. I admired your speed and grace, hard-won from swimming against the currents, and the iridescence that burst into color when a shaft of sunlight illuminated the cool darkness of the waters.

You didn’t see me there among the reeds, so near, still alone. I, too, was learning to blow bubbles, and I thought I might ask you to show me how to find my way on the seabed. You’d teach me to find nourishment at sea, and to avoid the dangers lurking in the coves. We’d wait to see the shifting light of another sunray, and whisper in awe about the sun’s light reaching even undersea. But I didn’t ask, not yet.