Not when I’ve been told tobequiet.
Not when Ineednoise.
Not when I’mcravingsound.
And I am.
Sound I can’t actually fucking get to at the moment, might I add.
See, the ocean isalwaystalking.
And I live to listen.
To it.
The birds above.
The creatures below.
Even the boards carving through the waves make an incredible symphony.
Now, listening to surfers, divers, and even oceanographers – including the chemical ones – islessfun but still entertaining.
Much like pressing my ear to a conch shell to hear the waves.
Or listening to the adorable, underappreciated animal lover across from me ramble about computer shit I understand less about than paleoceanography.
At least that comes with easy-to-follow visual aids.
I’m not currently craving silence, so disregarding esquire’s orders for muteness is even easier than learning to paddle board was.
“How long have you been into computer shit?”I inquire prior to plopping my chin on the edge of the pool, allowing the remainder of my body to enjoy the cool water.
“Uh…” a couple rounds of clacking are wedged into his response, “since…I can remember.”
“So…you were just born with a computer in your hand?”
“Like you were born with fins instead of feet.”
“Perfect 10 comparison.”The corners of my lips helplessly kick upward at seeing him do the same.“Who taught you how to do the typey, clicker, spyware thing?”
Small chuckles precede him glancing upwards.“Hacking?”
Proudly nodding over my lack of terminology gets him laughing more.
And a bit louder.
The combination is even more irresistible than spending the day on a party wave with three hot Hawaiian surfers that can’t wait to bang you in the middle of the ocean.
Rather than answer, Zero takes his turn to prod around, “Who taught you how to swim?”
“Mother nature.”
Amusement remains during his mirthful headshaking.
“Andmy mom.”I briefly drop below the surface to cool down the portion of me that was beginning to dry.“I was three.No floaties.No donut.No goggles.Just me, the ocean, and my mom.”Memories of her wade to the front of my mind where they’re welcomed, which is a rarity.“Dad lost his shit on the shore.Swore his head was gonna explode or little birds were gonna fly around it like in the cartoons, but he never came into the water.He never took that moment from us.He trusted her, and I honestly think hisnotinterfering – despite the mouthful of water he watched me chug down – did more for me than if he had gone rogue and tried to ‘save’ me.”
Huh.
