Going Home

 Going Home

 

The waves! Big, noisy giants, pushing and pulling, tossing the big gray body to and fro. Up high, a glimpse of sunshine, then swallowed by the green water mountains. No rest, no snack time, just swim, swim, swim. South, always south, where the sun loves the water and babies sing soft songs in their mothers' bellies.

Remember the cold North? Tiny shrimp, millions of them, wiggling in the icy muck. A feast, so much to swallow! Now, just the empty ocean, a rumbling emptiness in the big gray belly. But no time to whine, gotta keep going, gotta reach the warm lagoon.

Sometimes, a shadow streaks alongside, sleek and fast, black and white like a painted fish. Dolphins, laughing in clicks and whistles, teasing the slow whales with their speedy games. But the big grays don't play, not now. Just a lazy flick of the tail, a silent goodbye, and back to the lonely swim.

Days and nights blur together, the sun a pale circle in the gray sky. Sometimes, the moon, a luminous jellyfish, floats in the dark ocean. Stars, like tiny diamonds scattered on black velvet, wink and shimmer. But the big gray eyes don't look up. Just watch the water ahead, searching for the familiar curve of the coast, the scent of seaweed and sun-warmed sand.

Then, one day, a change. The waves whisper secrets, the wind hums a different tune. The water feels softer, smells different, like flowers and fish soup. And there it is! The green wall of land, the golden beach tucked into a curve of rocks. Home.

The big gray body shudders with a sigh, a deep rumbling gurgle that rises from the belly. The journey is done, the long, cold swim. Now, time for warm sun and sweet songs, time for babies and bubbles in the lagoon. Time to forget the empty belly and the roaring waves. Home, at last.